Not a Witness
by TheCursedOne
Summary: Lost in time, with no one to turn to, can a lost traveler learn to stay still and survive what was read in the history books? A witness to history in the making or a part of it as well? It's New York, where even an orphan immigrant can rise up and change the world, change a story we know so well.
1. 1776

**Welcome to my new story. The circumstances of the character's arrival are quick, irrelevant. To be perfectly honest, I wrote this (and drew the cover), for my own enjoyment, and am only publishing because I thought other people might want to read. If you don't like it, don't read it, it's that simple. Anyhow, enjoy.**

 **~The Cursed One**

"Hey." I said seriously, furiously, wind whipping my hair into my face, but that didn't stop me from locking eyes with the man, "Tell me you're coming back for me."

"This time is too full of events…"

"So what? That's never stopped you before!" My voice was hitching on desperation as I slipped further away, "Hey!"

I woke up.

Except, I wasn't in my bed like I should've been.

Instead I was resting my head on a wooden table, the stench of alcohol thick in the air. My panicked heart accelerated as I looked around, confused. What was this, a bar? Some men in strange clothes were talking close by me and I hesitantly approached, disoriented. I had to find out where I was and how to get back.

"Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, Sir?" One asked, making me stop, blinking in surprise at the words. That was weird. "Oh well sure, sir. I'm Alexander Hamilton…" He was who now?! Where was I?

When was I?

Then came Lafayette and Hercules and Laurens. They were right here, in front of me. Hamilton started ranting about the Revolution. I suddenly felt very unwell, this couldn't be real. It wasn't…

Someone caught me as I fell forward.

"Whoa, hey." I came to, mind foggy, to see the faces of five men looking down at me, making me sit up in a rush, with a gasp.

"Whoa!" A couple of the more drunk ones said playfully. I got dizzy again at the sudden rush and Hamilton caught my arm as I swayed again.

"One too many, young lady?" He guessed and I looked at him blearily. He was so young, not much older than I was now. This was… it couldn't… I focused on what he'd said to me and shook my head.

"I don't, um, I don't drink." I told him, which seemed like stupid first words to a founding father but hey, what else would I say? But my answer only got the three crazy ones laughing.

"Of course not." Said Lafayette with his french accent. "Ridiculous for someone to drink in here." I felt my cheeks flush. But I made myself concentrate, still dizzy.

"Where am I?" I asked, disoriented. What year as this? Seventeen fifties maybe? Later? I didn't know anyone from this time.

"Are you lost?" I blinked up at Aaron Burr, then hesitantly nodded. "Your father must be worried." How did I explain this to them? I mean, if I said I had gotten separated from my family they'd just try to find someone who didn't exist. They might find out that my family didn't exist. Yet.

"I don't have a father." I told him. I was suddenly grateful to be well-dressed. At least I looked good. God bless my aunt's bridal shower. My words made the men sober a little and frown.

"And…"

"Not a mother either." I interrupted, heart beating fast, "O-or a brother or a friend…" I was all alone here. And chances were, I wasn't getting back, I was going to stay here… forever? With no one to even…

Hold my hand.

I blinked as Alexander Hamilton squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"An orphan." He said, "You're not alone." Wasn't I? I thought carefully, I was too old to be shipped to an orphanage, so I'd have to go do something. With what money? Where would I live? "I'm Alexander Hamilton. Meet my friends! This is Aaron Burr." I smiled and dipped my head at him, "John Laurens." He gave me a grin. "Hercules Mulligan." He gave me a more… suggestive look. "And…"

"Je m'appelle Lafayette." He took my hand and planted a kiss on it.

"Enchanté." I said, flattered, "Je m'appelle Constance." I didn't realize why the sudden silence came about, and why the five men stared at me.

Was I not supposed no know French? Whoops. I felt my face slowly redden, but I didn't lose my nerve.

"What?" I finally asked, smiling a little, "A lady can't have many facets?" I swung my legs off the table they'd laid me on.

"Evidently, she can." Burr noted.

"Can I have a glass of water?" I asked hesitantly and I sipped in silence.

"Well, I'll wish you all the best of luck." Burr said, standing, "But I'm a busy man."

"Goodbye, Aaron Burr, sir." I mumbled.

"Goodbye, Constance." He left. Now what? Would the others start leaving until I was alone? They began to distract from me and I remembered they themselves had just met.

"I say with all of us behind it, the revolution is just a matter of time!" Hamilton said gaining loud sounds of agreement. "I think we should be good friends."

"Aye."

"Yes."

"Oui."

"Well, this has been fun but if I'm out past midnight, then I'll lose my apprenticeship." Hercules grinned and took his leave, as did Laurens with the excuse of tiredness. I became increasingly nervous.

"Perhaps, you should go as well." Lafayette suggested courteously. I didn't answer right away, taking an uneasy breath.

"I wouldn't know where to go." I told him and Alexander, "I'm not from around here." Had my home country even had their independence yet? I didn't even think it'd been named yet. "I'm South American." I told them, "I came here… to make a difference."

"South America?" I didn't appreciate Lafayette's dry tone.

"I didn't realize that their civilization…"

"I'm going to stop you there." I said swiftly, "Because whatever you may say of them now is what the British might've said of you a couple years ago." At that, Alexander broke into a grin.

"Another immigrant." He sounded like he approved, "Here to witness history."

"I'm here to do more than just watch." I told him smoothly, but then lost my confidence, "That is, if I don't starve first."

"You have nothing?" Alexander asked.

"But the clothes on my back." I confirmed, "I don't suppose one of you gentlemen might offer me a roof over my head for the night." That sounded a little formal, but I decided it was adequate for the time.

"I was seeking the same thing." Alexander told me, "Seeing as I don't go to my dorm in King's College for another couple of weeks or so."

"I see." Lafayette sighed, "Very well, you may stay with me. For the Revolution!"

"For the Revolution!" Alex said enthusiastically and I said as well, hesitantly.

We walked. I remembered that Lafayette had money only when we approached his home. A house, larger than I'd expect, and exquisitely furnished. We were led inside, and I was relieved to see Alex seemed just as surprised as I was.

"You think I come to America unprepared?" Was all our host said. We were given bedrooms and I was given some spare clothes as we settled in for the night.

* * *

The following morning, we had breakfast in silence.

Or at least, I was in silence.

Hamilton ranted on about the Revolution passionately, and Lafayette readily agreed.

"It's inevitable." I said quietly, "America is growing and one man can't well stop it. We want something to fight for, to prove ourselves, and we have the chance to really make a difference, so why hold back? We don't need Britain anymore. Arguably, we never did."

"Yes!" Hamilton said enthusiastically, "Absolutely!" I blushed and smiled, then thought of something.

"You're going to King's College?" I asked.

"With a scholarship." He confirmed.

"Would you say they're flexible?"

"They've accepted my terms for an accelerated course, even though I'm an immigrant, so I'd say yes."

"Would you mind giving me their address? I'd like to send them a letter."

"A letter?"

"Just trust me."

I sat down and wrote a letter, then sent it, refusing to tell the men what it contained, no need to surprise them if my idea didn't work.

"What's France like?" I asked absent-mindedly as I doodled.

"The Monarchy is destroying…"

"No." I interrupted, making him blink. "That's not what I mean." I sighed, "This is why I hate politics. I mean… what color is the sky? What kind of smile do people give you when they say hello? What catches your eye when you walk down the street and captivates your ears when you lay down to sleep?" I blinked and laughed bashfully, "Whoops, didn't mean to rhyme there, writer's instinct."

"You're a writer?" Alex asked me when Lafayette didn't respond, looking at me strangely.

"You bet." I said, "It's what I live for."

"I never thought of it that way." Lafayette finally said, "Of the stars you see when all is dark, and the smell of pastries in the air." I closed my eyes imagining it, "I forgot about the viola in front of the library, and that woman that sings opera as soon as the sun rises. The sunlight on the fountains and in the grass… hadn't crossed my mind for…" He trailed off and I looked at him worriedly.

"I didn't mean to make you home-sick." I apologized. But his frown melted into a dazzling smile.

"No." he told me, "You've reminded me why I need to save it. Merci."

"De rien." I said quietly with a smile.

"You'll have to write me something someday." Alex told me, clearly curious, though I knew he held little faith in me.

"Only if you'll write me something too." I challenged.

"It's a deal."

Days passed and I began to get used to living with Lafayette and Hamilton. I never had to search for an interesting conversation, and walks were common, I'd even occasionally accompany them to that bar to meet with the others, though I blatantly refused alcohol.

"You boys drink and we'll see who drags you home." I told them dryly. Burr laughed.

"I like her."

I did almost have to drag my boys back, complaining as Lafayette leaned heavily on me, laughing drunkenly. Alex then pulled me onto his back, piggy-back, as I yelped and he ran forward, spinning.

"Hey!" We laughed and returned and I made sure they both got into bed before retreating myself.

* * *

I got up early the following morning and sat at breakfast, excited when I saw I had my letter, rolling my eyes when the men groaned and sat by me.

"Oh look." I noted innocently, "One of us is different from the others. Why might that be?"

"Oi!"

"I'm sorry if I overstepped your boundaries last night?" Alex told me, holding his head, "I don't remember much."

"You just carried me back." I told him with a sigh, "Lafayette? That strange taste in your mouth might have something to do with what you left behind in the bushes." He groaned but Alex blinked at me.

"I apologize." He told me, "How imprudent of me." I remember what year this was.

"It's alright." I told him, "Just a little fun, I didn't have to walk, so I don't mind." I leered at them, "Eat, please."

"You sound like a mother or wife." Lafayette complained loudly, making me blink and blush, ducking my head. I only wanted to look out for them, but he was right. They knew how to have fun while I…

I turned to my letter.

"King's College." Alex read, "They answered."

"About time." I said impatiently, opening the envelope with care and reading its contents, leaning away from the others so they couldn't peek. I frowned deeply. I should've known. I crumpled the letter in my hand. "Excuse me, I have to go write something."

I stood and left, sitting in my room furiously as I scribbled on the page. A wife? A mother? Noble things, but couldn't I be more? I could make history too, I knew, I just had to try harder. I couldn't give up. I couldn't…

A knock made me stop writing.

"Can I come in?" Hamilton.

"…yes." He stepped inside and I didn't turn to face him, only just realizing my eyes were full of tears, which I blinked away. He came forward without hesitation and snatched the wrinkled letter from me, reading it in seconds.

"You want to study at King's College?" He asked, surprised.

"She what?" Lafayette, of course, was eavesdropping. I turned to them, cheeks red and fists clenched.

"What?" I challenged, "Should woman not receive the same education as men?" I met Alexander's eyes, "Do you think us incapable, inferior? If you tell me I'm destined to stay at home and sit around and witness history instead of make it, then you're gravely mistaken!" I angrily turned back to my desk, "I'm writing to them again, for real this time."

"You are insane." Lafayette remarked, "I suppose the revolution could use that. I have business to attend to…" He drifted away but Alex stayed.

"What?" I asked irritably.

"I'll help." he said finally, pulling a chair over, "We'll convince them."

"I don't need your help."

"No." He agreed with a laugh, "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't accept it." I turned to him with a frown, meeting his eyes once more.

"I appreciate it." I told him, "But I need to be able to write this myself. You of all people understand that, don't you?" He looked at me a moment before laughing and standing.

"Unfortunately, yes. Let me at least read it before you send it."

"…okay."

I got to work, explaining that the University would be the first to take a huge step in history, persuading them with my prior education and dominance of three languages. I wove my case with words and imagery, told them about my knowledge in basically all field of study. I spent hours sketching as well so they saw I had diverse skills, and informed them that I was just as capable as any man to attend the college, that I didn't care where they made me sleep (they didn't have girl dorms) and they would be turning away an opportunity to make history if they didn't allow and help me financially to attend. I also requested the accelerated course, promising I could handle it, and telling them they could move me to a normal one if they deemed otherwise after observing me.

I was folding it away into an envelope when I remembered my promise, setting it on Alexander's nightstand (he was out) before going to bed.


	2. King's College

**Here's Chapter 2, I can clear up any questions you may have about the story and, well, enjoy.**

 **~The Cursed One**

"I sent it." He informed me at breakfast, "I'd accept you."

"Thanks, Alexander." I muttered.

"I have some letters of my own to write…" Lafayette wasn't even there, he was working on some sort of trade.

"I'll leave you to it. I wanted to take a walk anyways."

"It's dangerous to go alone." He told me and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm almost as tall as you are." I told him, "and believe it or not, I can take care of myself. Have fun writing."

My footsteps seemed each heavier than the last as they echoed in my ears, my body moving slowly forward through the path. I thought back to home. Internet, things would be so much faster. No war, no one telling me I was too weak or too stupid. My family, my bed… I had a future planned out and it was gone. Writing flimsy books and poetry meant nothing in this era. I refused to just marry to whomever I found and live a meaningless life in the shadow of a man. Here, making a difference was a lot harder. Studying in a centuries-old college with outdated knowledge. A war brewing… and I was all alone in this time.

All alone.

"Constance." I turned to see Lafayette and Hamilton strolling in my direction, "We decided to take a break, in the mood for a trip to the market?"

"Sure." I followed them to find a man holding up some parchment and clearing his throat.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" He called to a crowd and I winced. British accent, this couldn't be good. He started going on, against the revolution and I instantly grabbed Alexander's arm.

"Just ignore him." I pleaded, but he pulled out of my grasp and began to argue with the man, not leaving the poor guy with a second to even think of an answer, the crowd cheered him on and I grimaced at Lafayette, who shrugged, but smiled along, clearly in agreement.

"Alexander." I hissed, "That's enough. You've made your point."

"Please, you're making a scene…"

"Then I'll speak more loudly!" My eyes fell on a man in a red coat.

"Alex!" I snapped. The man came up to him and I knew this wasn't good. "Excuse me!" I said hurriedly, placing an hand on the man's arm, "Hello, sir. How do you do today?"

"Ma'am, move aside, I may have to arrest…"

"Actually." I interjected, "I'm afraid I've hidden my money in my sock, to avoid being robbed, but I can't quite reach it in this dress. You're an officer, right? An honest man, would you help me?" He glanced at Hamilton for a second, then at me, crouching down and I jerked my head to Hamilton to move. The man's fingers grazed against my leg, up, up, until he found the edge of my stockings and pulled them down slowly.

"I don't see anything." He said after too long.

"Oh, I must've forgotten it." I said, "I'm sorry for the trouble, officer. I'll go now, no use staying here. Thank you." I rushed my words towards the end, hurrying away. I gave Hamilton a furious look before storming back towards the house.

The chased after me at a fast walk.

"Hey, wait!" Hamilton called after me, "Slow down, you'll fall in those shoes."

"Expensive shoes." Lafayette added.

"Leave me alone." I snapped.

"Constance…"

"I mean it!" My voice broke and I bit my tongue, refusing to stop. But he caught my arm and I whirled around, livid.

"I don't understand why you're so…"

"That was humiliating!" I told him, tearing up, "And disgusting! I told you to ignore it, to leave it alone, but of course you didn't listen to me, you never do! That officer was going to arrest you, and I had to do something, degrade myself, no less, just so you could get your sorry ass out of there!" My tears were streaming freely right now, "And I don't belong here, and I miss my home, okay? And I was trying to get used to this, trying to keep it together, but then you have to be an idiot! I don't know what I'm doing here! What alternative do I have? Marry away to someone I don't love and do nothing with my life? I'd rather die now! I…" I turned on my heel and ran away from them. Here I was, crying like a girl just like they expected me to. What a fool.

I fled behind the house, to a little space between the bushes and the wall, curling up there, body shuddering with sobs.

Humiliating.

Hours later, I hadn't moved. I leaned my head back and stared at the stars that had decided to join me, ignoring the cold. I listened to my breathing, feeling numb. It felt like forever that I stared up into that sea of black, until my eyelids became heavy and drifted shut.

I gasped awake when I was moved.

"You'll have to excuse my lack of courtesy, yet again." Alexander said as he carried me around the house, towards the front, "Go back to sleep."

I said nothing, leaning my head against his arm and letting myself drift off again.

* * *

Breakfast was unusually quiet the following morning. Alexander arrived late and Lafayette clearly didn't quite know what to say.

"To miss Constance River." I turned, "After reviewing your proposal once again, King's College has agreed to allow you to attend with a scholarship, accelerated course, and the necessary sleeping arrangements." I whirled around in surprise, snatching the letter from his hands.

"What?" I gasped.

"You've just made history." Lafayette said in surprise, "I must say, I didn't think I would live to see the day."

"Under the responsibility of Alexander Hamilton?" I read, confused. "What am I, a pet?"

"It's the best you're going to get." Hamilton told me, nudging my shoulder, "This idiot is going to be keeping an eye on you."

"Look forward to it." I said dryly, but I was inwardly ecstatic. I'd just become the first woman in the United States to receive higher education. Damn straight.

"Good thing too." Said Lafayette, "Because I'm returning to France next week and, no offense, I was not leaving Alexander unsupervised in my home. Not even with you, Constance."

"You're leaving?" I repeated, instantly devastated, "No!"

"We'll see each other again." He assured me, "It's a temporary trip, as far as I can tell. You'll write to me."

"Yes, of course." I agreed.

"Can i speak to you for a moment?" I followed Alexander outside.

"Yes?"

"I believe I owe you an apology."

"I overreacted."

"No, you didn't." He said, "I'm grateful for what you did, putting my wellbeing over yours."

"It was no big deal."

"My current freedom begs to differ." He told me with a smile, "It was brave of you, as is your pursuit for knowledge."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you."

* * *

The days drifted past and when the day came for Alex and me to go to college and Lafayette to go to France, I was reasonably upset, we had something pretty good going here. I threw my arms around Lafayette, not caring about the times formalities.

"I better see you again." I told him threateningly, "Or I'm going over there to bring you back, do you hear?"

"Aye, aye."

"Good. We'll see you soon."

"So you will."

The journey to King's College was nice as we spoke animatedly about our expectations and writing desires. We were greeted warmly and I tried not to let the strong presence of men intimidate me.

I had a small room that joined to Hamilton's, and I'd have to pass his to leave every day, but I made myself stay calm and reminded myself of the time. All things considered, this was great.

After a tour and settling in, classes began.

Sure enough, they were a little behind on certain topics, but I used that to my advantage. I'd learned a lot of this math in high school so I was able to keep up in that department. The law and medicine classes had me a little more lost, though my old biology classes helped me keep up. The work was hard, especially without that little miracle called Google and I spent a lot of my time in the library.

From day one, all my peers stared at me, but I kept my head high. They should get used to it. I was embarrassed, however, when the school newspaper released an article about me and history, seeming remarkably familiar to the letter I'd sent them.

Even the teachers were demeaning, though I made sure to keep my grades perfect to prove everyone wrong. What I struggled most with, however, was the law part of the curriculum. I couldn't exactly pick and choose so I was forced to take these classes. My accelerated course just doubled the work. Migraines came and went, as did a couple of sleepless nights, but I was able to keep up.

Hamilton, however, was right in his element.

He got into daily debates and writing pamphlets on the revolution, supporting the colonies, which I humorously proof-read and gave a couple of suggestions here and there. So obviously, he wasn't worried when the mock trials for Law started approaching, while I of course was terrified.

"Please." He told me, "Law is the easiest of what we touch here. I find medicine much more confounding…"

"I can help you."

"I don't need help…"

"I know." I agreed, "But last I recall… I do believe my score surpassed yours in the last biology test."

"That last question was a trick!"

"A trick I knew." It was fun to get him a little riled up here and there. Get his competitive spirit going.

"We'll see on the next test." he told me.

"I guess we will."

I spent the night pouring over law books, investigating on the case I'd been given, planning arguments down the the last word, knowing I wasn't much of an improviser when it came to speaking.

I felt unsteady as I reached the classroom.

"Excuse me, sir." I said, "You skipped my trial." Not this BS again. This teacher hated me.

"I don't think I did."

"I think I'd remember." I shot, "It's not just my trial, sir." It was true, there was a prosecutor on my trial, though no one knew who they'd be going against until the final second. Random people would be chosen to be witnesses. I'd been one far too many times.

"You'll be going against Alphonse Elder." Uh-oh, I didn't like the guy. I'd already watched Hamilton crush it in his trial and I hoped some of his passion had rubbed off on me as I stood. And so it began.

"That evidence is circumstantial." I argued, "Hardly enough to accuse a man of a crime like this. The witness itself says they did not see my defendant's face. It could have been anyone and frankly, by the way the witness phrased their testimony, I'd call it biased, maybe even fake. They clearly want to condemn a black man to death or at least life in prison. And racism definitely isn't grounds to arrest the defendant."

"Your defendant has a history of violence…"

"A history of violence?" I interrupted, "Sure, violence against him from his slaver. And the knife he uses to work in the gardens every day is hardly damning evidence. Other than that, the most he's done is raise his voice, which I can assure the jury that the prosecution has done more often. Perhaps we want to avoid the possibility that the officer that refuses to speak on the matter had something to do with it."

"Objection!"

"I said nothing wrong!"

"I think that's enough." My blood pumping, I stepped back. I slowed as everyone left for lunch, hand on the doorframe as I frowned.

"Constance?" Alex asked, "If it's about the debate, I believed that you would have won it if you had… Constance?" I groaned internally as my vision steadily darkened.


	3. Fight, fight, fight

**And here's the next chapter (the reason I'm publishing this fast is that this is all written already, I started publishing when I finished it). I hope you're enjoying the story. As answer to a question that was brought to my attention, Constance is Venezuelan. Any other questions, just let me know. Enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

I straightened, straight out of Alex's arms, swaying, alarmed.

"What was that?" He demanded.

"Nothing." I told him quickly, "I'm fine."

"Clearly you're not. You're pale too, I should have seen it earlier, you're my responsibility…"

"You're not my father…"

"You haven't eaten or slept…"

"I'm perfectly fine…"

"The stress must have pushed you over the edge when…"

"Alex." I interrupted, ready to defend myself, but instead I said, "Please don't say anything."

"What?"

"I promise I'll eat and sleep and take care of myself but if the university hears about this, they'll take me out of the accelerated course."

"You're ill."

"I'm just tired." Arguing with Hamilton was a workout in itself, "Come on, I'll get some sleep tonight, okay? I'm fine."

Days passed and those days became months.

My friendship with Alex grew stronger, though he began to do all sorts of things, relevant things, something about trading canons or something. Graduation flew toward us and our pencils never lifted. I wrote my stories and poetry, as well as essays and letters to help Alex with his causes, and mine, persuading other universities to start considering accepting women. I wrote regular correspondence with Lafayette, who described France in great detail, to my great pleasure.

Then we had a stranger lesson.

It was outside, with a sort of PE vibe to it.

I dropped the gun that was handed to me.

"I told you." Muttered Mathew to Taylor.

"She would've put up a fuss if we hadn't given her one." Taylor muttered back, "But all the better, she had no room to speak here: a woman should not be handling a gun."

"Yeah, because she might shoot you both." Alex remarked, seeming comfortable with his own gun in hand. He turned to me and lowered his voice, "Though you don't have to take this class if you don't want to. In fact, I don't think you should, it's to train soldiers…"

I hesitantly picked the gun up from the ground, holding it gingerly.

There were few things in this world that I detested more than guns.

We were told about the rules of duels, which were basically shoot-outs between two people with a grudge against each other. Technically, they weren't legal, though I knew people went to Jersey to do it. I knew because Alex, someday…

Not if I had any say in the matter.

I listened, gun loose in my hands, I was disgusted by it. But everything I'd built would crumble if I left now. So I raised my gun at the target, wincing at the sound echoing around me, pointed and shot.

I hit the target, in fact, there were men with worse aim than mine. We were told to practice for a while.

The next day, for medicine, we were taught how to treat a gunshot wound, given multiple scenarios and locations of wounds. It troubled me that the first step was to move the body to a dry, safe place. Was was almost scarier, though, was the lack of medicine, antibiotics and stuff that they had. A gunshot could mean death by infection just as much as blood loss.

Though i got through those awful classes smoothly, they inspired me to write an essay.

"You can't be serious." Hamilton said as he read it, "We're at war, Constance."

"Yes."

"Yet you're against violence." he said, "You sound like the British."

"Have you even read it?" I asked him irritably, "Or just the title? I know there's a revolution going on… and I agree with the cause obviously…"

"Yet you want us to take our place without so much as a pistol when…"

"We're only bringing more death…"

"It's ridiculous!" He snapped.

"What's ridiculous is that you're criticizing it before reading it." I snapped back, "I get that there's a war, okay? Wars have guns, as much as I may hate that, I recognize the fact. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Actually, it does."

"You can be so infuriating sometimes!"

"At least I'm coherent!"

"You never listen!" I told him, "Only to think up an answer, an argument! To prove yourself right, you always have to be right! You're in desperate need of something, you know."

"Common sense?" He guessed sarcastically.

"An open mind!" I shook my head, "It's the lack of that that's gotten America in this position in the first place!"

* * *

It wasn't our first squabble, nor, I knew, would it be our last. Fortunately, it didn't last too long. He actually read the paper and we discussed it a little more peacefully over lunch. He helped me perfect it, and I published it fearlessly.

"Oh, you don't like violence?" Remarked Winston at our next class, "That's such a female thing to say."

"Oh, you're right." I agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Only women should be allowed to live." That got me a dirty look, but did he expect me to stand for what he said?

"You say that because you're afraid." Winston spat, "Afraid of dying. Because you can't fight. You can hardly hold a gun."

"I still hit the target more often than you do." I told him, "And if you're not afraid of dying then you're not human. Also?" I gave a little scoff, "Who said I couldn't fight?"

His angry expression morphed and soon he was laughing out loud, much my annoyance.

"You think you can…"

"You just judge before you even…"

"Arms like toothpicks and strength, well, what strength?"

"Careful with those stereotypes, wouldn't want you to choke on them."

"You couldn't possibly…"

"Couldn't I?" I interrupted, eyes blazing. I hated petty fights like these, especially when they were with someone other than Hamilton, because I knew with him I could resolve things talking. The same couldn't be said about everyone. I wanted to just breeze this away, but I couldn't back down now. For all the other little girls that would grow up like this, if I could make a difference to them, then I couldn't justify retracting.

Winston refused to take me seriously. He came closer than I was comfortable with.

"Women." he said in a low voice, "Serve only to cook, raise and have se-" I slapped him across the face without hesitation.

"Would you say that to your mother?" I questioned. The next thing I knew, his hand was gripping my forearm and before I could think to react, I was half-shoved, half-thrown across the room, with such force that I hit the opposite wall roughly, so much so that I felt my vision black out.

* * *

"Constance!" My eyes fluttered open and I moaned softly as Alexander kneeled by my side. Letting his medical training take over, he started asking me all the routine questions, how many fingers did I see? Was I nauseous? How had this happened?

"Um…" I trailed off at the question.

"Did you faint again?" He accused.

"No!" I said heatedly, then took an uneasy breath and said quietly, "I got into a fight." In winced, "My head really hurts, and my back."

"What?" Responsible Hamilton was long, long gone, as concern was replaced by fury. "Who did this? Why… no, who was it?"

"Alex." I said gently, "I feel really light-headed, honey, I promise to tell you everything once…" I flinched again at the pain. He checked. I was bleeding. He instantly went through the disinfecting procedures and used the only bandage he could find to wrap me up professionally. He helped me stand.

"We'll look at your back in the room."

"No nurse." I said quickly, "B-because…"

"For now." He said wearily, "let's just fix you up." He took me to his room and sat me on his bed, taking out the medical supplies he had. I began to lift my shirt but he looked away instantly, face reddening.

"Alex." I said dryly, "There are literally no men on this Earth that I trust more than I do you. It's just my back." Which was apparently scraped up and bruised. That had been one hell of a shove.

Worst of all? That boy left feeling proved right.

Once I was wrapped up and disinfected, I felt a bit better, relieved. Hamilton stood at the door, ready to split.

"Who was it?" He insisted.

"Winston." I admitted, "But… I half started it."

"What?"

"He was going on about women." I said, "Like they always do, but this time he said some awful things so I slapped him across the face and asked him if he'd say the same to his mother. He got… a bit upset and threw me against the wall before leaving." I frowned, "He said girls couldn't fight, and that all we are good for was…" I clenched my jaw, "I'm not sorry."

"How could you provoke him?" Alex scolded, "When you have no means of defending yourself?"

"Oh, are you on his side now?"

"He has a point! You're no match for him!"

"He caught me by surprise is all!"

"Enough!" He shook his head, "I'm going to go settle this."

"Please don't."

"Excuse me?"

"I appreciate the gesture but I don't need you fighting my battles for me."

"Clearly, you do."

"I'm fine, Alexander."

"At least let me teach you how to defend yourself better." he pleaded.

"And then you'll leave me alone?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

He let me rest a couple of days before leading me to a courtyard, where I stood and crossed my arms, laughing.

"This is ridiculous." I informed him.

"Your bruises say otherwise."

"Whatever you say." I sighed, "What do you want me to do? Throw a punch? I'm stronger than I look you know. You underestimate me."

"Intellectually, I hold you in the highest degree." He told me, "Physically…?" I bit my lips, shaking my head.

"How much do you want to bet I could lift you up, give this courtyard a spin?"

He laughed out loud.

"You would snap in two." He told me, "And it would be dishonorable."

"I see, you're afraid to lose a bargain." I saw his eyes light up with that competitive spirit, he recognized the challenge and he was itching to take it. I knew him well enough to know this.

"If you don't manage it." He told me, "Then I get a favor. One thing. Anything I ask."

"Same goes to you if I do."

"All right…" He accepted hesitantly, "Go ahead." I turned around and he hopped onto my back. I grabbed his legs securely and rolled my eyes, he wasn't as heavy as I thought he'd be.

"Please." I said as I began walking, "You're as light as a feather, Alexander." I jogged forward, twirling as he laughed, arms loosely around my neck. I finished my quick lap and gave a little boost before removing my arms letting him stumble to the ground. I gave him a side-long glance, "Alex, you should work on your leg strength, you know."

But he couldn't breathe enough through his laughter to answer. Finally, he straightened.

"You cut it short." He informed me, "I win!"

"I did not!"

"You're at least ten paces short."

"What, were you counting? I proved my point."

"That." He agreed with another laugh, "That you did."

"Can we go back now?"

"Fighting is different." He told me more seriously.

"I can fight." I told him, "I was simply caught of guard." He gave me a wry smile, nodding.

"Sure." he came at me and wrapped his arms around me as I yelped. I dug my heel into his shoe, making him loosen his grip, then elbowed him in the gut, hurriedly grabbing his arm and pulling it behind his back.

"Good enough for you?" I whispered in his ear.

"If you can fight." He clearly didn't believe his own words, "Why don't you?"

"What, punch Princeton's bursar like you did?" I asked dryly as I smoothed my dress, "Like I said, I don't approve of violence."

"If that's so, why learn to use it?"

"Because I don't approve of others using it on me either." I told him simply, "Does that clear up my position on the Revolution?" I gave him a crooked smile, "I think I can go to bed now?" He waved me away and I left.

* * *

The day of graduation was quite a day indeed. Alex and I, along with maybe a handful of others, were the only ones in the accelerated course. It was a small ceremony, but history was made right then, as I received my diploma.

Then something strange.

We were free, but a couple days later, Alex wandered off and I followed, wanting to go into town anyway but curious as to what…

I froze.

Without a second's hesitation, he leaned forward and signed up. For the… he was… No. No, no, no, no, no.

He turned and saw me looking at him with wide eyes, then walked over, clearly pretending he didn't know what was wrong.

"What?" He asked, "You can't tell me you didn't expect this, Constance, it's all I've been talking out." He was right, but I felt so caught off guard, so dizzy…

"You could die." I told him quietly, "You want to be one of the thousands that lose their lives?" I shook my head jerkily as he placed a hand on my shoulder with a gentle smile. "You can't." I whispered. I couldn't say the next words but… he was all I had.

"I have to." He told me, "Now we'll write, as often a you like. You'll keep writing your way up, won't you?"

"That's what I agreed with Lafayette." I said, upset, "And we barely write to each other anymore. I can't let that happen, Alex don't." I was begging at this point, "I…" He just gave me a cheerful smile, gently kissing my forehead.

"I'll see you soon." He promised, "I have to go, we leave at dawn." And he was gone.

The only thing I had here, the only one… he was gone, he was gone, he was going to go get himself killed, and I… I…

I marched up to the tables.


	4. What War's About

**Hey! I'm back with more. I hope you enjoy what you read, and I'll be back tomorrow with the next chapter. Read away!**

 **~The Cursed One**

I have to say my blood was pounding as I boarded the carriage that took me and several others to a literal war zone. We were lined up and I was at the very end. I was there more as a doctor, medic, backup, gun filler more than anything else, but I'd just have to live with that.

Days passed and men charged into battle, half returning, if we were lucky. On Alex's first mission, I came with, quietly. There were only about a dozen of us as we approached enemy lines in a different way than that I'd heard soldiers trying before. We hid.

"Okay." Alex said, all business, "We've got to gather whatever intel we can, then push them back. You two? and you two? Flank me and these three. As for you two, shoot from back here, cover us, and…" He trailed off, "Constance!" He ran to me, hands gripping my arms tightly, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Waiting for my orders." Our eyes locked for a long time, and he hesitantly finished.

"Our medic will stay behind with you. Keep. Her. Safe." We moved and I ducked behind a rock with two others while everyone else left and I prayed my heart out that they would be alright. Yelling. I gasped lightly at the sound of angry gunfire, ducking lower as the men flanking me began shooting. I heard a handful of screams.

A loud curse made me turn to see one of my men fall back, grasping his shoulder as he gasped in pain. My mind froze in fear, in panic.

I had to help him.

I pulled him toward me so he regained his cover, disinfecting as well as I could and tightly wrapping his shoulder, shushing his pained sounds.

"You're gonna be okay." I told him.

The same couldn't be said about everyone.

Our little group managed to fend off the British in this area but when I peeked past the rock my heart fell into my stomach.

Bodies. O-on the ground. Red and blue. I swallowed back the bile that came as I shut my eyes tightly, taking shaky breaths.

"Constance?" Alex's slow tone made me steel myself and open my eyes, though my hands were shaking. I stood, running past the rock to the wounded, possibly dead, "Constance!" He sounded like a scolding parent. I fell to my knee beside one of our men, who was unsteadily breathing. His leg was gushing blood. I wrapped it tightly, spoke to him, made sure he focused, told me about his family and why he had to get home.

"Hey!" I called, "Someone help him out of here!" I ran to the next one. Dead. The next. His chest moved too fast as my hands flew over him, trying to seal the hole in his chest.

"It's gonna be okay." I told him as I worked on him, and he cried out, "It's all gonna be okay."

"I… I don't want to…"

"I won't let you, I…" The man trailed off and the light went out in his eyes. "No, no, no, no." I breathed, checking for a pulse, putting my head on his chest, not caring about the blood that got on me. Nothing.

Damn it!

"We have to go!" Hamilton yelled, but I ignored him, running so a man in a red coat who was clearly still alive. He looked at me with distrust and pain.

"Where are you hurt?" I asked hurriedly, unable the pinpoint the spot on my own, "Well?" I snapped, "Where?" He said nothing, and I found the wound in his abdomen, a tricky one, though not as bad as the chest. I got to work, stitching and wrapping him up.

"What are you doing?" He questioned through gritted teeth.

"Oh, be quiet." I caught the looks of the others, "You expect me to let him die?"

The men left, six of the dozen, including Hamilton and myself, escorted their comrades and the enemy to safety, while Hamilton furiously took my wrist, leading me forward. Once we were back at the camp, he didn't hold back.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He yelled, no longer bothering to keep his voice down, "Are you insane? Coming here?"

"I'm not some damsel in distress…"

"You could've died today!"

"So could you!"

"I saw your face!" I stared at my filthy shoes, fists clenched and shaking, "Look at yourself!" I was covered in a dead man's blood and there were tears streaking down my face. "You need to go home! I'll write to Lafayette now… You can't do this!"

"I can." My voice was quiet, broken, with little conviction. "Or maybe I can't but I'm going to."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

"I stay as long as you stay." I informed him, voice hard, teary eyes hardening with determination and meeting his own. I cleared my throat, "I did something today, the smallest difference and I'm not going to leave, even if you want me to. Too bad, Alex. N-now I…" I held back my tears as my voice shrank, "I'm going to go wash this off okay?"

I walked away, trembling like a leaf. He was right, I wasn't made for this. As I washed my face, though, I let myself cry, only until the blood was gone, and then I forced myself to stop.

I was so afraid.

That night, with only to moonlight, I wrote a poem.

* * *

"Constance." Said Matt as we walked to our next destination, clearly trying to keep the tone light, away from the harsh reality around us, "You don't look like you slept much." That got a look from Alexander. He'd tried to stop me from coming.

"The curse of a writer." I said cheerfully, "The best poetry comes in the middle of the night." Matt laughed.

"A poem, huh? Let's see it then." I felt my cheeks flush.

"Oh no." I said hurriedly, "I couldn't."

"You show it to me when we get back." He made me promise, "We could use a little art around here."

"I'll think about it."

Another fight, more hiding, more explosions and gunshots and death. Alexander's tactical brilliance got us through nearly unscathed though. Using information from that soldier I'd saved, we found the location of some canons.

At Alex's insane whim... we stole them.

I'd never been so happy to treat rope-burned hands in my life.

More missions came and I was more and more impressed by Alex, and more and more weighed down by the death around me. A lot of the men I treated died anyways. I saved one, two, eight more enemy soldiers, staying away their confusion with my soothing words.

"Are you here to kill me?" Asked the most recent patient, staring at the sky as I worked hard and quick on his rapidly worsening state. "A pretty girl like you? I'm honored, good way to die."

"Sure." I agreed, distracted, "If you were dying."

* * *

We went out on yet other mission, Matt pestering me about my poem.

"If I promise to show it to you as soon as we get back, will you be satisfied?" I asked dryly.

"I might."

"Consider it done."

"Finally!"

"Quiet, you two." Hamilton said uneasily, "I don't like this."

And he was right not to.

An ambush.

"Get down!" He hollered, yanking my arm and throwing me to the ground as the bullets began to spray. He crawled over, onto me, shielding me with his body as we managed to find cover, gasping.

Matt stumbled in after us.

All the others were dead.

This is it, I thought, this is where I'm going to die.

I turned to Hamilton and smiled gently, maybe, with him, we did have a shot.

"Three is enough to get back." Hamilton said, tense, "It'll help us hide. We wait, but not long, they'll search for survivors. As soon as I see an opening I'll… Matt?" I turned to see Matt give a wry smile before collapsing, and I realized he'd been shot after all.

"No." I breathed, ripping his shirt, "Idiot, please don't…" He gave a pained laugh.

"You always were the slick one, faster than me." He told me.

"Want to hear that poem?" I asked, to distract him as I got to work, "I've got it memorized."

"You had it memorized this whole time? I knew that 'when we get back' was BS. This…" He winced, "Is actually an elaborate plot to get you to spill."

"Well you win." I told him, "It goes like… Matt, look at me." His gaze was drifting. "Concentrate on my epic poem."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The dust and the dirt and the filth fill my lungs." I whispered, laying on another set of bandages when the first bled through almost instantly, "The death hangs heavy in the air, you never know know who it'll take next… who it's just taunting. Warm beds and smiling spouses await us all, every thing we miss the most is what we're fighting to protect. War isn't about the guns and the bloodshed. It's about the music in the streets and the children with their fake marriages and games. It's about the smell of roses and the smiles between strangers. It's about fighting to protect all that. I am afraid." I paused, "More than I ever have been in my life, a dead man's blood was just washed from my face but it permanently stains my soul. Of course I fear death, we all do, but that's what makes our lives worthwhile. And it's being here despite that crap that makes every person here a hero."

He was almost gone.

"Read that to… give it to… everyone…"

"Wait." I said to Matt hurriedly, "Listen, you can't…" But he was gone. I sat with his head in my lap as I gasped softly.

"We have to go." Hamilton said in a hard voice, "Constance… we have to get out of here. Alive."

"But…"

"He asked you a favor, didn't he? You can't do it if you're dead. Okay?"

"…okay."

Our exit was blocked and they were coming our way, so we were forced to flee in another direction. I was glad I had Alex, seeing as my sense of direction was about as solid as water. Water. I was thirsty.

We ran into another fight, or the remains of it. Unfortunately, it was a good place to hide. I thought everyone was dead until i heard a low groan. Alex caught my arm as I went towards the sound.

"This is not the time." He whispered angrily, "We're in enough danger! Did you see what those bastards just did?"

"No one deserves to die." I told him gently, "Not even us idiots here in the trenches." With that, I ran over to the squirming man, who seemed stuck under a piece of what used to be… I wasn't sure. A carriage maybe?

With effort, I pulled the splintered wood off him.

"Is your leg alright?" I asked, crouched by him as he sat up, "I can…"

The next thing I knew, the barrel of a gun was pressed against my temple and I stood very, very still.

He pulled me to my feet and Hamilton emerged, eyes widening.

"Put the gun down!"

"Surrender your battle plans!"

"Put the gun down!" Hamilton's voice raised a pitch and I could tell he was just as scared as I was, if not more, "Lower your gun! She's innocent!"

I took as risk and began coughing, then yanked the gun from his hand, tossing it aside. He wrapped an arm around my neck tightly.

"Stop." I said quietly, "This isn't what this fighting is about. This isn't who we're supposed to become."

"Shut up!"

"For your own sake, don't kill an innocent." I pleaded. He squeezed, cutting off my air. I watched Alexander jerk forward, but a back-up gun was lifted and he had to stop.

"This is for my fallen-"

BAM!

The bullet whizzed by me and the man fell back, pulling me with him. As his grip loosened I sputtered and gasped for air, scrambling away from the man who had a neat hole in his temple.

Alexander held his gun remorselessly as I shook and was unable to breathe right, eyes wide, body frozen in shock.

"Freeze!" Alex stopped walking toward me, "You just killed that man in cold blood!" Another redcoat, the gunshot must have attracted him. He pointed his gun and Alex dropped his own, holding up his hands.

"I was defending my friend's life."

"Like I am now."

"I see."

"You're coming with me."

"As a war prisoner? I don't think so."

"I wasn't asking."

"Neither was your friend when I shot him but it really seemed that way." The safety went off the gun. That idiot! He was going to get himself shot. he seemed to remember the situation. "Let the girl go."

"That man was going to marry my sister."

"She got the better end of the deal if you ask me."

BAM!

A deafening sound, more than usual, in fact it felt ten times multiplied in volume, and at the same time mute. I watched the blood spread through the shirt and listened to the thud on the ground.

And I let the cold metal demon slip from my fingers with a strangled gasp. A second later, and Alex would be dead. As soon as I saw that man start to shoot… I… I had just…

This time, sobs ripped through me mercilessly. Alex turned to me in utter surprise and came to me, helping me stand and rushing us to a safe place.

I cried and cried and cried.

He hugged me to him tightly, as firm as I was weak, hand pulling my head against his chest. He gave me some water for me to sip as I calmed a little. With his strategy, we were able to sneak through the ranks undetected and arrive with new information a couple of days later.


	5. Rise up!

**As promised, I'm here with the next chapter. Stay tuned for tomorrow's chapter, and so you know, I started writing a bit more of this story, starting from where I'd ended off a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

"Hamilton?" Our ranking officer, Lexington, dropped what he was carrying and ran forward to us, "You're alive! Constance? We heard there was an ambush!"

"There was." Hamilton confirmed grimly, "All the others are dead." There was a heavy silence.

"We assumed you were among them."

"No, we managed to escape, I'll tell you all about it and the intel we were able to collect on our detour. First, can we get another medic to take a look at Constance?"

"Of course. Leary!" I let him take me into his tent and patch up my cuts and bruises, and was then given a hefty meal to get my energy back.

I sat quietly in my cot afterwards, feeling numb. Hamilton must have been telling everyone what had happened.

What I'd done.

Before I spiraled down that road, I had a promise to keep.

So I stood on shaky legs and walked out of the tent, to the board where announcements were pinned. I ripped out my poem and pinned it there.

"Constance, you should be resting." I turned to Hamilton, was he done already?

"The medic assured me I was fine." I told him, "A little battered up but I'll be okay." Alexander looked like there was something he wanted to say. "What?" His eyes met mine and they were furious.

"Why didn't you fight back?" He questioned me, making me blink, "You got rid of his gun, I know for a fact you could have overpowered him, killed him even. So why didn't you? You just stood there!"

"I wanted to reason with him."

"He couldn't be reasoned with!"

"He was full of grief." I whispered, "As were we."

"You were almost killed!"

"So were you!" My voice broke as I yelled back at him. I covered my mouth and tried to hold back my tears, "I thought… I was sure… that I would… I would lose you and I… that's why I… I killed…" He seemed to finally understand. He knew me well enough to know I condemned violence. And after what I'd just done? I'd ended a man's life.

"Me too."

"Here comes the General!" The who? Alexander instantly straightened, arm around me tightening.

"Rise up!"

"Who?" I whispered.

"Here comes the General!"

"George Washington!"

Wait a minute…. what?!

"Hamilton!" It was Lexington, "Follow me." He did, pulling me along curiously as we were led into a tent, one I hadn't entered before.

Before us sat a man whose face I'd seen before.

On money.

"Sir!" Hamilton straightened, "You called?" I slipped from his grip, well aware I wasn't supposed to be here.

"Yes, I've heard a lot about you." Said the general, "Prodigy of King's College, you stole those canons, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And who is this?" I felt suddenly very inadequate as the man's eyes fell on me. His authority emanated from that chair he sat upon and I felt oddly threatened, would he ask me to leave?

"Constance River." Alexander responded, "Our very best medic." I was confused when his eyes lit up with recognition.

"Good!" Good? "I wanted to confirm some rumors."

"Sir?"

"Is it true that you two survived an ambush and got us some of the most valuable intel yet?"

"Yes, sir." I let Alex answer, not daring to speak.

"And you." he looked at me, "I hear you have a habit of saving redcoats."

"No one deserves to die, sir." I said simply, in a small but firm voice. He broke out into a smile.

"Well said. The intelligence we've gained from these men has been invaluable as well."

"I'm glad to hear it, sir."

"You're the first woman to have attended college?"

"That I know of." In this century, anyway.

"And you shot a man to save Hamilton here?" I was quiet at that question, eyes shooting to the ground.

"I'm not proud of that." I said quietly, "But I would do it again."

"I see. I find something curious. No one has been able to get either of you on their staff." It was true, I'd gotten letters, offers from men to be a secretary. I had turned them down.

"To be a secretary." Hamilton scoffed. "I don't think so!"

"I had my own reasons to deny."

"Let me guess, you dream of dying in the battlefield as a martyr?"

"Yes!" I turned to Alex, appalled.

"Dying is easy, young man, living is harder." That phrase resonated in my mind, and I made a mental note to write it down.

"Words to live by." I agreed quietly.

"I need a right hand man." George told him, "We're overwhelmed here!"

"…Alright then." Hamilton nodded, "I have some friends, Laurens will deal with the South, Hercules can be our spy, Lafayette can provide supplies."

"And her?" Alex paused, turning to me.

"She should go home."

"Alex!" I protested.

"I want you to be our chief negotiator." George Washington told me, eyes meeting mine, "Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"I must object!"

"I'd like to teach the soldiers some basic medical techniques." I requested, "Bloodshed is everywhere and I can't be everywhere at once either, sir." At that, he gave me a small grin. "Strategically speaking, our men are dying, and they will continue to get shot and two medics aren't enough to save as many as we could. Our numbers are depleting and the more we save, the better we are."

"Approved. We meet tomorrow to discuss strategy. You're dismissed."

We exited the tent and I braced myself.

"You can't." Alex said heatedly, "Negotiate? In a war like this? It's a dangerous job!"

"I appreciate you concern Alex, but if anything, this will keep me away from the guns and the battlefield." He frowned deeply.

"You should go home. Lafayette is on his way now, he won't mind you staying…"

"No." I said gently, "You know I'm not going home until you do."

"I will not see you killed!"

"You got that right." I agreed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go help rally up the soldiers."

* * *

"No." That was only the fifteenth no I'd gotten, though the bored tone was new.

"Listen." I argued, "The General signed off on it…"

"I don't need any knowledge from a woman, I don't care what you studied."

"But-"

"That's my answer."

But as everyone left for dinner, they all paused by the board, as usual, and I was embarrassed because I knew they'd be reading my poem. After dinner, I sat alone in the medical tent, and a couple of men stepped in.

"You said you wanted to show us something?"

"Fighting is… evidently important in a war." I admitted, "But people are going to keep getting shot. If one of you catch a bullet in the arm and I'm not around, I don't think you want to be bleeding out over something that could be easily solved."

"You want to teach us how to patch each other up?"

"Yes. And I want you men to save lives. Would you like that?"

"We're listening." So I taught them, gently correcting mistakes and drilling them until I was satisfied. I told them to pass by my tent before they left on any missions and I'd give them some medical supplies to work with (though I showed them alternatives in case they had none).

* * *

The next morning, my mind was, of course, on the meeting to come. Alex and I had basically been banned from the field, George Washington said he needed us alive, and I couldn't help but feel relieved.

So my mind was predictably preoccupied as I got up early for breakfast, and bumped into someone.

I had to blinked to make sure I wasn't seeing things.

"Lafayette?" I gasped, giving him a quick hug as he laughed and gave me a spin before putting me back down, "I didn't know you were coming so soon!"

"Good to see some years in college haven't made you forget me." His English was better now.

"Has Alexander seen you yet?"

"I've just arrived." So I ran to Alex's tent and ushered him awake, pulling him out, and his eyes widened, as did his smile when he saw what awaited him, ecstatically greeting our old friend. I thought of something and hit the frenchman on the top of his head, ignoring how I had to strain my arm a little. He held his head and turned, giving me a clear confused look.

"Ow?" He offered in his dry french accent.

"That's for not writing more often." I told him, "I haven't heard from you in months, you didn't even tell me you were coming." Alex caught my wrist as I went in for another blow, the two men laughing heartily.

"I apologize." he offered with a crooked smile, "It is good to see you again. Have you been practicing your French?"

"Not as easy without a certain frenchman around." I told him. He ruffled my hair.

"We'll work on it soon." He promised.

"Well good." I said, then remembered, "Oh, wait, we have a meeting." Alex rolled his eyes then gestured for us to follow him and we all joined George Washington in his tent.

"You have French support." Lafayette told the general, "All we ask for in return is your support when our time comes."

"Thank you."

We planned strategy, we sent Hercules to be our spy and Laurens to rally some guys. As for me? I was to be shipped to enemy territory to try to hash out some peace. Tomorrow. As expected, Hamilton didn't like it.

"All due respect, sir, this is too dangerous!"

"I can handle it." I said softly.

"If we can save lives, then shouldn't we try?" Hamilton silenced, jaw clenched.

"Let me go with her."

"I need you here."

"She'll be killed!"

"So will our men if you're not here to guide them!" George frowned, "I'll send Lafayette if that will satisfy you." Hamilton paused for a long time, looking at us both.

"…yes, sir."

"Very well, you're all free to go." But I hung back. Steeling myself, I faced the general on my own for the very first time.

"Sir?" My voice was small and I cleared my throat, "I'd like to request something."

"Yes?"

"Keep Hamilton off the battlefield." He looked at me for a long time. "Yes, he's a tactical genius and his aim is good, but he can be more use to you if he stays here. Use his strategic mind to do exactly what you've asked of him, send people where they need to go, write to Congress, everything just… he's more use to you alive, sir. And none of us can guarantee…" I stopped and took a steadying breath. "Please."

"I agree with you." He said, "And I'll honor your request. Now get some rest."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." I wouldn't be around to keep an eye on him, but at least he'd be in less danger.

* * *

As the darkness fell around us, I took out my quill and the parchment I always kept on hand in cases of inspiration.

 _I'm so scared. I'm all alone here, I feel as if I've always been alone and I always will be. I'm scared of death, I'm scared of witnessing more horrors, and dammit, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified to enter negotiations. I know it's the right thing, I may be able to save lives, which is why, of course, I agreed, but I almost don't want to go. I might die. Worst of all, I leave my dearest Alexander alone. I find some comfort knowing that Lafayette will accompany me, but I'm terrified of losing contact with Alex. In this all-consuming darkness I live in, he is a flicker of light, a warm sunbeam on my cheek. That reckless, loud-mouthed, full of it, madman may be the only thing keeping me sane. For his sake, I'll continue. He better not die, because I would never forgive him. Never. And what if I die? Who would really miss me? Shed genuine tears? Who would whisper to my grave? I feel like in the afterlife, too, I would hear only silence._

I wiped away the tears as they smudged the ink a little, laughing a little at myself. How morbid of me.

I retreated to my room to get some sleep and was up the following morning, far too late.

No time to say goodbye.

I got on that carriage and let myself be taken away, speaking happily with Lafayette. He spoke more fluidly now, telling me of France and Paris and the unstable monarchy. He told me everything he had to go through to get back here to America and I was in awe at his dedication.

"Wow." I breathed, "And then you get stuck babysitting me, I'm sorry Lafayette." He let out a laugh at that.

"Don't worry." He assured me.

"I can't believe everything you've done for another country's revolution."

"America, it grows on you." He admitted, "And I will be getting a boat in return. Or so I hope."

"I'll make sure of that." I promised, then thought of something and laughed a little.

"What?"

"Nothing." He gave me a look, a knowing one as he smiled slyly. "Nothing! I just feel a little silly in this, after everything you've done and Hamilton and Washington…"

"Please." He said, "You graduated college, no?"

"That has nothing to do with the revolution…"

"Well, the fact that you came here at all…" He actually frowned at that, like he didn't like it, "And I've heard of your doings."

"What doings?"

"You save british soldiers?" Oh, yeah, "You survived an ambush?"

"Only because Alex was with me."

"Well let me tell you how I heard the story." He leaned back, peering down at me, "A redcoat you were attempting to help held you gunpoint, no?"

I didn't answer.

"Alexander saved you." Yes, yes he had. Before I could think of an answer, he continued, "But I also heard a different version, that it was just the other way around. That you took a dead man's pistol and shot the redcoat before he could kill Hamilton."

I clenched my fists but didn't speak.

"Both." I finally whispered.

"I never would have…"

"I don't want to talk about it." I interrupted, staring intently at the floor, "…please."

"Very well. Then get some rest, it will be a long journey."

* * *

Alexander awoke with a jolt. That's right, she left today and he had to… He hurriedly dressed and exited his tent, searching for her. He stopped by her tent, the medical tent, but he couldn't find any of her…

Crunch.

He looked down to see he was stepping on a piece of parchment. He recognized her handwriting. She never left her writing unattended, how strange, and to find it here by the floor, maybe she had written while seated outside? Forgotten it? She did get hazy as soon as night fell.

He picked it up and read it curiously, frowning when he saw the ink smudged by droplets he knew weren't rain.

His heart clenched at the words he read.

Alex. She always called him Alex, such an informal nickname, a fond one. She was always smiling, he realized, always trying to be better, to make others feel good, encourage them, while all this time…

He ran to the road leading off the camp but found the carriage gone.

"You just missed them." He whirled around to see George Washington and instantly straightened.

"I see." George gave him a sidelong glance then turned away and called back.

"She's in good hands, I'm sure."

"Yes, she is." Just... not his.

Decided, he went to his desk and began to write.


	6. Ice Cubes

**Like clockwork, I return. I've got you a bit of America's Favorite Fightin' Frenchman. Enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

When we finally arrived, I took a steadying breath and looked to Lafayette with a smile, but he was cautiously looking out the door, maybe checking for enemies?

"Let's go." He said without turning, and I followed him out.

The plan was to hunker down somewhere discreet, then peacefully meet with a well-known british officer that might get me to a general, if I did my job right. It wouldn't be easy, but first I had to get the officer to meet with me in the first place. We may have had his vague location, but if we strolled up to the front door, we'd probably get shot.

So I did what I do best. I wrote a letter.

Lafayette wasn't much help in the actual writing department, though with his military brilliance he offered suggestions that might catch the officer's attention. He made me make sure I wrote that I was here on behalf of George Washington and I had a proposal. He also made sure I conveniently left out I was a woman. I knew that they'd never take me seriously if they knew that from the start, especially since, if my history was correct, the British were even more disparaging of women than Americans. I had to impress them first. Hopefully, this wouldn't backfire.

I knew it would take a couple of days to get a response so I settled in the humble little house we'd sneaked into, from a loyal american woman, and played chess with my friend to pass the time, though we were often busy writing letters and essays (his were all in French). He took advantage of the time to help me with my French.

My heart skipped a beat when I got a letter.

"Read it." Lafayette said, tense, "That was a very swift reply."

"That can't be good." I said, frowning as I opened it, then I blinked as I read the first sentences. "Oh."

"What?" He looked like he might explode and I knew that this waiting thing wasn't his style.

"It's not from the British." I told him, "Alex sent me a letter." His shoulders instantly slumped and he went back to his work, muttering in French.

I sat, curious, on the chair as my eyes took in his every word. In all the time we'd known each other, Alexander Hamilton had never written something for me, just for me, my eyes only.

And man, had I been missing out.

His sentences vivid and clever, and tales wild and interesting. He said he hoped I was doing well, that he had faith in me, and to say hi to Lafayette. He awaited my return, he said, the soldiers were doing well, their medical training was holding up. My poem was still pinned on the board and he told me he still saw people stop to read it.

Somehow, his words came to life and I could feel his literary embrace. I wanted nothing more than to go back and see him again.

But I had a job to do.

After writing a cheerful reply, I waited a few days until finally, I got an answer.

Basically, they were asking what kind of proposal I was offering. They didn't want me to be vague, but to come out with it. But this wasn't just a simple-cut thing. I needed to speak with them face-to-face, I said as much in my letter, and I told them, straight-forwardly, if they liked this war, the death and hostility and uncertainty if they were going to live past tomorrow.

I continued my correspondence with Alex, who told me he kept asking George Washington for a commandment, but he kept getting turned down. I was immensely relieved that Washington was keeping his promise. Alex saw straight through me, though, saying "I know that what I find to be misfortune will only please you…" And then he begged me to be careful, to stick to Lafayette and reminded me it was okay if we didn't reach a deal, he had me covered.

I answered him, telling him I'd gotten my answer and I was on my way to meet eh British now. By the time he read it, I knew, it would all be over. Or, it would all have really begun.

* * *

I walked with Lafayette uneasily to a house, standing at the gate. Lafayette gripped the handle of his pistol and the hilt of his sword, and he knew he would be able to kill countless men in seconds if provoked. It was good to know he was on my side.

The gate swung open, only a little, and a man in a redcoat leered at us.

"Are you the revolutionaries?" He said it like a dirty word. We wordlessly bobbed our heads and he looked at us some more.

"The woman stays behind."

Lafayette met eyes for a couple of very long seconds with the man, shaking his head, until finally, the man sighed and swung the door open further, I could tell he too was ready to shoot at the sign of anything strange. I forced my heartbeat to slow, knowing that I was in high danger of dying right here as we walked cautiously forward. Lafayette went ahead of me, half shielding, half searching for any signs of an ambush or something of the sort.

I knocked on the front door and was let in by a silent woman. We entered a room with a long table, finding a man sitting at the end of it. Redcoat, he matched the description: this was the guy.

"Good morning." I said, carefully and politely.

"You." He looked at Lafayette, "You wanted to speak?"

"Actually." I interjected, "I'm the negotiator here on behalf of George Washington." My friend was under strict orders not to speak, so we wouldn't reveal he was French and helping us. Alternatively, I'd say I wanted a neutral party present.

The general stared at me for a long time, and he laughed. After a good, long laugh, he sobered and pointed at the door.

"Get out."

"Listen." I said, stepping forward cautiously, "We wrote? I'm C. Rivers?"

"How convenient you didn't give your full name."

"I was worried you might react like this, but let me assure you, Washington personally asked for me to come here today." I slid a letter toward him, "For your skepticism?" He read it over, eyeing me with distrust. "I'm here to negotiate peace, officer."

"Peace?" He repeated with a scoff, "Is that what your man is for?" Lafayette gripped his weapons more tightly, shooting me a look. I just smiled calmly.

"Well I'd be insane in talk in here unprotected, I don't have a death wish, officer. I want to be taken seriously."

"Are you telling me you're here to surrender?"

"No." He looked at me, half scowling.

"Then we have nothing left to discuss."

"Listen to me." I told him, frustrated, "Have you been on those battlefields? I have, as a medic."

"Of course I have!"

"Then you've seen the slaughter, on both sides! You've seen men smile because they ended a life, does that sound right to you?"

"Can't handle the sight of blood?" He mocked. I swallowed hard.

"Actually, I've treated a lot of wounded men in the past months… and I've fought as well. I just don't like that we have to."

"We are not the ones who started this." He reminded me, "Which is why I will not hear a word in an attempt to gain some effortless victory."

"Effortless?" I echoed, "Trust me, officer, this war has been anything but effortless. But, in a way, you're right. We did start the revolution, but it isn't about killing the British, it's about gaining independence, taking away the training wheels." I frowned slightly, thinking, was that an out-dated reference? "And what you want isn't about killing Americans either, I'm sure. We both want something, it's just the way we're trying to get it is through guns. How do we protect our nations by sending our people to their deaths? Our people are our nations, so we kill our nation to save it? Bear with me, you must have suffered from the war already, you must have people that you don't want to see die, but that might, because this keeps going on."

I could see it in his eyes, he wavered. But his jaw clenched.

"You just want us to back down. You don't care about British lives."

"Yes, I do." I said, "Because I believe we're going to win anyways." At that, he stood an angry step forward and Lafayette shoved me behind him. "I do." I insisted, looking past my friend's arm, "But at what cost? I do care about British lives, sir, I've saved a couple of your men myself, men bleeding out on the battlefield? A human being is a human being, regardless of the color jacket he wears."

"Do you expect a thank you?"

"No. I expect you to hear me out. All I want now? Is to decrease the number of lives lost as much as possible. Will you let me do that, officer? What's more, will you help me?"

"…how?" Yes! Now for a risky move.

"If we were to end the war altogether…" He scoffed and turned away.

"I'm afraid you're wasting my time."

"Listen, what do you really have to gain from winning this war?" I pressed, stepping forward, "Say you win, then what? Tensions will continue to rise, hatred will simmer and grow…" I got closer and closer to the man, "And you'll be left with a colony that may very well start lashing out violently against you, small at first…" I kept walking, "But then you'll have a whole other revolution, another million lives lost! The only way you contain the Americans is to exterminate them, and is that really what Britain is, officer?" I was practically face-to-face with him now, "Do you believe yourself to be the villain in this story because that's what you'll become!"

"That is quite enough!" He yelled, gripping my arm and shoving me back harshly. My shoes had a bit of a heel so my foot twisted and I fell back. Lafayette caught me, holding me securely with one arm and swiftly taking out his pistol with the other, without so much as a hesitation.

The officer tensed, ready to draw his own weapon or call for help, I was sure. My ankle really hurt and I felt like I'd just failed big time.

I put my hand on Lafayette's arm and gently pushed down so he would lower it. He turned and looked at me, eyes hard and full of words, I could practically hear his thick accent telling me that this was necessary and I was being stupid.

I gave him a look, pleading for him to trust me and he slowly, grudgingly, lowered his weapon. I turned back to the officer, who glowered at us, clearly on high-alert.

"Okay." I said finally. "While I'd insist you keep that in mind… then perhaps there are other ways to avoid bloodshed. Would you be interested in that?"

"I'd be interested in you leaving."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to help me formulate ways to avoid deaths. Ways both sides will agree to?"

"Work with a revolutionary woman?" He laughed out loud, "I think not!"

"Well I think closed minds are what got us here in the first place. I think by now I've proven myself to be a competent partner in this worthy cause. Think of your family, if you have one. If not, the one you may have, or friends that have gone off proudly to fight and may never return. Help me save them, officer."

"If I agree to meet you again will you leave now?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"I'm glad to hear it, officer. I'll send you a letter with some dates and times. I hope you have a good day."

"I will once you leave."

"Thank you." Lafayette basically swung me around and all but dragged me out, holding my arm and walking at a swift pace, which I struggled to keep up with considering my pained ankle. I smiled kindly at all the men we saw on our way out, then we walked in silence at the same brisk pace until the house was completely out of sight, and then some.

* * *

"Okay." I said, cringing and letting my pace falter as I leaned on him more heavily, "Can we stop for a second?" He blinked at me.

"What is it?" He asked finally as I shut my eyes tightly, biting my tongue against the pain.

"I'm fine." I clarified quickly, "Just a little…"

"What?" He asked again, then looked at me, "Are you hurt?"

"Not really I just…"

"Are you hurt?" He repeated sternly. I swallowed hard.

"I may have twisted my ankle." I admitted. "When I tripped back."

"You mean when that bastard pushed you!" Lafayette corrected angrily, lifting my dress a bit to see. It was red and purple, just beginning to swell. I grimaced at the sight.

"I'm fine." I repeated, trying not to think of the pain and squeezing my eyes shut once more, "Just give me a second and I'll keep walking."

"Is there a medic?" He called and I hurriedly shushed him.

"I am a medic." I reminded him, "Let's just get back and I'll treat my ankle myself. Come on." I hesitantly walked forward, leaning heavily against the reluctant man who helped me forward. When we reached the house at last, I grimaced at the steps. And with a sigh, he swept me into his arms and ascended them effortlessly. Sometimes it was easy to forget how strong he was. Yet before putting me on the bed he slowed his steps, like he was making an effort.

"So… heavy…" I slapped him and he laughed shamelessly before dumping me unceremoniously onto my bed.

"You're hilarious." I told him dryly as I straightened, "Pass me my supplies?" He tossed them and I clumsily caught them. It was probably a sprain, not too bad. No painkillers in this century, other than maybe alcohol, so I had to bite my tongue and wrap it up tightly. You learn the strangest things when you're popped into the past, for example, ice cubes didn't exist yet. With adequate treatment? I'd be on my feet in less than two weeks. But with what I had now? I'd be in bed for at least three. This sucked.

I wrote my report to George Washington, as formally as I could, telling him I'd made some progress today, met with the officer and he'd agreed to meet again, he seemed interested in some sort of negotiations, though the talk on ending the war altogether had been a failure. I wished him luck in his endeavors.

Letter-sending in this century was frustratingly slow.

Even so, I wrote a letter to the officer with some dates we could meet.

Days passed and I got my usual letter from Alex, who seemed highly worried about the meeting, knowing that it would be over by the time I got his letter, telling me he hoped I'd been careful. Apparently, he was in a similar position as I was: writing letters more than anything else. I answered with sympathy, but glad he was safe. I asked his opinions on Shakespeare, eager to read something more interesting.

I got my answer from the officer, telling me that we should meet for dinner at his estate. My friend was not invited.

"Aw, crap." I breathed.

"What is it?" Lafayette asked, "Has he disagreed?"

"…No, um…" He snatched the letter from me, then laughed.

"No."

"Listen to me…"

"We will return, tomorrow, we tried. However…"

"Lafayette." I interrupted, "I can't try and convince him to let you come, we don't have the time. And I'm not giving up so easily. Of course I would rather you came with me, kept me safe. That's what's given me peace of mind this whole time."

"So let's return."

"No." I said gently, "You return." He said something in French, so fast I didn't quite catch it, but it sounded like a curse, or an appalled expression. "Let's be honest, you don't like it out here, babysitting me."

"The General…"

"Washington will understand." I told him, "If I have any hope of finishing these negotiations, I need this british officer to trust me. If this is what it takes…"

"Putting your life on the line?"

"You say that like it's new." I told him, "You need to get back to where the action is, help Hamilton. But please, stay safe."

"I'm not leaving!"

"It's too risky to have you here anyways, if anyone were to find out you were French, we'd lose our advantages. I need you to trust me, Lafayette."

"It's not you I don't trust."

"I know." But I also knew that he wanted to leave, he wanted to be useful. "Look, I'm right behind you, okay? I'll finish things up as quickly as I can and join you back in the battlefield. Okay?"

"You're coming with me."

"But-"

"The General has given me the authority to pull you from here when I saw fit."

"Excuse me?" Lafayette was more than my babysitter, "Wait, have you been reporting to him too?"

"He knows you were injured and that the conversation did not go smoothly…"

"I got what I wanted!"

"For now. It's too dangerous, the probabilities of this working are too small…"

"But worthwhile!"

"The General disagrees. He told me if your response was not favorable…"

"It is favorable!" I insisted, "He's agreed to meet me, he answered quickly! I saw it in his eyes, Lafayette, he wants to help us…"

"You saw what you wanted to see." I clenched my fists angrily, "Even if you are right." He sighed, "The same cannot be said for his superiors. We are too low in the chain of command, too dangerous, and the chances…"

"I won't go." I met his eyes with fiery determination.

"Yes, you will. Direct orders."

"The greater good…"

"Get some rest." He told me, "We leave at dawn."

He would drag me out if he had to.

And I'd be the girl who tried and failed miserably, who gave up.

Worse still, men would just continue to die.

No. I wouldn't allow it.

Our meeting was set two weeks from now. The trip back was at least three days. No, if I wanted to make it, I had to stay behind.

How, though? This was our safe house, where would I go? Would it be too risky to just stay here? Would I have to look for another place to hide out? Would I cause more damage than good?

I stayed up all night, as he slept, writing at times, mostly strategies, some poetry, a little story… None of my ideas got me closer to staying.

And if I hid? No, he'd panic, he wouldn't just leave me behind. He was a soldier, he'd find me easily.

Morning came and I had one course of action.

Stubbornness.

"Constance." Lafayette knocked them entered my room, "I did say dawn, didn't I?

"I'm not-" He walked over, in front of me in two strides.

"Get up."

"No."

"You're being unnecessarily difficult."

"Then leave me behind." With a sigh, he bent over, wrapped an arm around my waist, and before I could think to react, flung me over his shoulder.

"Hey!" He ignored me, "Lafayette, let me down! You can't… hey!" He said a polite goodbye to our hostess, thanked her, then stuffed me into the carriage, pointedly sitting by the exit.

"You know I have a gun."

"Like you'd use it on me, you big…" I shot for the exit and he tackled me back.

"Enough!" He snapped, "Look at yourself, have you gotten any sleep?" I swallowed hard, but he was right, everything was blurry, I was exhausted.

"I'm not tired."

"You're acting like a child!" Ouch. But he was right. I glared down at my hands. If it weren't for the fact I was a woman, he never would have pulled that, dragging me out. Hell, Washington wouldn't have sent a guard dog in the first place.

I caught myself whenever I started to doze, too angry to sleep. What would happen now? The officer would wait, send letters that I wouldn't be able to respond. He'd be pissed. Or, hell, relieved.

I felt so useless.

Washington, George freaking Washington, had given me a task and I hadn't delivered. I felt ready to cry, to hit something.

But not here. He was right, I was acting like a little kid and I couldn't keep doing that in front of him. I would not cry. Not in front of him.

I kept myself entertained by letting music play in my head, writing, feverishly describing the cracks on the seats, anything to…

"Constance." I winced at the sound of his voice, it felt louder. "Close your eyes." After that, I don't remember. I must have fallen asleep, deeply asleep, for a long time…


	7. Paradise

**Hello, hello, here we are. To answer a question that was presented to me, asking why people overlook love in marriages back then, well, fun fact, love wasn't much of a factor in marriage until pretty recently. It used to be, essentially, a business transaction, a way to tie two families together, to gain a bit of status, even for the poor, to be able to share land, what little they actually had. We can even see this in the Musical, how Hamilton married into the Schuyler family to gain status, how Angelica was forced to marry rich. I'm not saying love didn't exist in marriage, or that marriages didn't exist that came from it, just that it wasn't very common back then. Often, spouses would come to love each other long after marrying. (I had a whole reading on this topic). So yeah, I hope that clears that up. Enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

"Is she here?" Alex? He sounded both excited and worried. Lafayette shushed him, and I felt his hand fall onto my head, fingers in my hair, palm covering my ear, making it harder to listen.

"She finally collapsed." He sounded weary, "Hours ago, refused to sleep for days."

"What?" Alex whispered.

"She didn't want to go." Lafayette said dryly.

"She looks pale, has she been eating?"

"No. Her twisted ankle is nearly cured. She is a good medic."

"You never should have let that happen!"

"Which is why we have returned."

The tense environment told me it was time to finish waking up. I opened my eyes blearily, then sat up in a rush when I realized I was lying on Lafayette's lap. I held my head as the world spun.

"And, she's up." He sighed.

"Constance!" At that, I looked at him. Alex. I'd been wanting to see him for so long. So long… But I was also furiously embarrassed, and I knew his persuasive skills had greatly influenced Washington's decision to pull me from my responsibilities.

"Excuse me." I mumbled, pushing past him, stalking to the medical tent on my mildly aching ankle.

I tersely greeted the patients within, checking their wounds, conferring with the other medic, and discovering that of the men I had trained: only one was still alive. I swallowed hard. I hadn't missed that part of this.

"Constance." His voice was more serious this time as he entered the tent.

"These men need quiet…"

"Keegan." Hamilton said formally, "Put her on a bed, her ankle is injured."

"Keegan." I said through gritted teeth, "It's a sprain that's over two weeks old, and as you can see, I'm fine. How about you tend to some patients who seem to be bleeding?" Keegan shot Hamilton a look and shrugged before returning to the more critical patients.

"You're upset." Hamilton observed.

"You really are as smart as they say." My voice dripped with sarcasm as I changed a man's bandages, "I'm working, Hamilton. Apparently, this is what you want me to do so let me do it."

"Your mission was dangerous…"

"All these missions are dangerous." I told him, trying to keep my temper, "But because I'm a woman and none of you thick-headed men believed in me for a second, I was hardly even let to try. If it were you, you'd still be there. I might have saved lives before they had to come to me like this. But I guess I'll just shut up and be your nurse, and when we win this war, with more men having died than necessary, I'll go back, get married to whomever asks, and stay at home washing the dishes for the rest of my life, then maybe raise a daughter to do the same. I can't wait. Until then, Hamilton, I'm going to tend to this man's wounds. So, please…" My voice was bright and angry now, "Leave this tent."

He did, quietly.

Despite my words, I wasn't going to do that in the slightest.

I was due to meet Washington the following morning, give him my report.

Instead, I got up at night, packed my bags, and paid the man in the carriage to take me back.

I didn't leave a letter.

* * *

Now, it would be close, really close. Not to mention, the carriage took a different route, doubling the travel time. I had to hurry…

When we arrived, I thanked him, tipped him, then returned to the safe house, speaking the my hostess kindly, telling her I'd been ordered to return and give it a shot. My ankle was in good shape my now, and I washed up, dressed up, then made my way to Officer Spencer's estate.

When his men saw I was alone, they sneered but said nothing, letting me in.

I walked slowly, having drafted some proposals on my long ride here.

Stepping into a different room than that I was in before, I found not a conference room, but a grand dining room.

"You came." He sounded more surprised than I would have liked, "Excuse my disbelief."

"This is important to me."

"And you friend?"

"Not here, I hear he wasn't invited. Disappointed, but understanding."

"Well, isn't that a surprise." We looked at each other for a long time, "Please, meet my family." I greeted his wife kindly, and his young daughter. She was taken to another room and the three of us sat to eat.

"I'm grateful for the invitation." I told him.

"Well, you were quite persistent."

"For a worthy cause." We ate in silence for a couple of minutes. When we were brought dessert, the wife dropped her spoon.

"Can you save my son?" her voice broke.

"Henrietta!" Her husband hissed.

"He was made to enlist three months ago… half of his friends have died already…" her voice cracked and I was astonished. What to say? Here? Now?

"That's terrible." I whispered.

"Excuse my wife's manners…"

"No." I said, "No, I don't mind at all." I looked at her, "Ma'am? That is the idea. To save your son and many women's sons." She sniffled and gave a little nod before excusing herself.

"How exactly do you plan on doing that?" Officer Spencer asked, "You have a plan?"

"Maybe." I said, "I'm hoping you'll help me perfect it, so both sides will approve?"

"In what way?"

"Well, as I can see it, we have countless soldiers fighting and dying for a few feet of territory. But this isn't about a few feet of territory, it's about us wanting it all and you wanting it all. So it seems pointless, doesn't it?"

"I suppose."

"If we were to increase the amount of medics in areas such as… wait." I took out a map I'd brought with me.

"Shall we move to the conference room?"

"Sure."

I spent hours, all night, working with Spencer, increasing medics, putting restrictions on the people to be called to war. Establishing peace areas, where any injured soldier could go to receive help, we would have medics from both sides working them. Those in worse condition would then be shipped back to their corresponding nations with carriages we called Guardian Angels, that were not to be touched or sabotaged in any way. We argued over where to put them, and how good an idea theses Paradises, as we called them, would be if the carriages might be overwhelmed. The idea was that no one would know whether they held American or British men, and that they would stop if anyone extra tried to board on the way. We argued about the terms, who would provide what, how many supplies, how many medics, should they share tents (which I insisted they should to ensure they were neutral). It went on until dawn the next day. He insisted we put one close to where his son was positions, but I said it wasn't very strategic a position and it would require too many supplies… He wouldn't move on that front, so I conceded and he did too.

We had an agreement.

I wrote it, accepting tea from him with a weary smile, as he supervised and read the proposal we had created. We named it: The White Agreement. I signed, as did he. But now we had to get both Washington and the King to sign.

"I thought you spoke on behalf of Washington."

"I do." I said, "However, he doesn't know all we've come to speak of, what I've offered. So I will get him to sign, then send this document back to you as soon as I do. I trust you will handle the King?"

"I will get an audience and present it to him as faithfully as possible."

"If you need me to be there, just say the word."

"I think it would be best if I handled it." I'd just have to trust him then.

"Okay. Thank you, officer, let's go make history."

"Let's save lives."

* * *

My journey back was, of course, much too short as I tried to think of a way to present this to him and not get laughed out of the room. I had ditched my place, ignored direct orders… I was in big trouble.

No welcoming committee when I got off, thank goodness, but I had been away for weeks. I kept my head down and approached Washington's tent.

"Charles Lee?" I heard Hamilton say in disbelief, "Sir! I can…" he trailed off and Washington spoke, his voice muffled from all the way out here. I could Hamilton because he was, well, loud. "Yes, sir."

"General Washington?" I said, stepping inside. I saw the General standing with Hamilton, and they both blinked at me in surprise.

Hamilton was on me in a second.

"Where have you been?" He gripped my arms tightly, "You disappeared overnight! We thought you'd gone to the battlefield, or back home… nobody had any idea…" He was shaking. "Are you hurt?"

"No." I said calmly, then turned to the other man, "Hello, sir."

"I'd like you to answer Hamilton's question." he said, voice firm, "Where were you?" I took a calming breath.

"I've drafted an Agreement with officer Spencer and we would like you to sign it."

"What?" Both men said, equally surprised.

"It's entitled the The White Agreement. Officer Spencer has agreed to convince the King to get on board but first we need…"

"Back up." Hamilton said, "You went back?"

"Against my direct orders." Washington said.

"Sir." I said in a hard voice, pulling from Hamilton's grip and stalking forward, holding out the agreement, "I insist you read what we've created, an agreement between British and American soldiers to work together and help the wounded, decrease the number of deaths by, according to my calculations, at least twenty percent."

"You created this in secret." He said angrily, "I told you to pull the mission."

"Well everyone makes mistakes, sir, even you. We need your signature."

"I suppose we're to provide supplies."

"If you would just read…"

"Supplies we hardly have for ourselves."

"But, sir…"

"Hamilton." He handed the agreement to him. "Read it, and if it's not worth bringing to me..." Washington looked me straight in the eyes, "Burn it."

"Sir!" I cried in protest.

"As for you," he said, "Until Hamilton reaches a decision, you are to remain in your tent, with supervision."

"Can I at least work in the medical tent?"

"No. Officer Hendricks will look after you. And this time? Stay. I doubt you'll see much action at all after this."

"…yes, sir."

"Hamilton, escort her to her tent and get to work." I followed Hamilton out in silence.

"What were you thinking?" He said as soon as we were out, "You complain about being treated differently as a woman, but if you weren't, you might've been shot for treason!"

"I know."

When we reached the tent and we were alone, he embraced me tightly, much to my surprise.

"Never." His voice was low, "Let me believe you may be dead again. Do you understand me? Constance?"

"Yes." I whispered, tears in my eyes, "I just… I…" I was shaking. I'd said I wouldn't cry, I was supposed to be mad at Alex, I had to… I…

He sat me down went they tears began to flow.

I calmed quickly, sniffling and cleaning my face with a sigh.

"Read it." I said, "Please."

"Stay here." He left and Officer Hendricks arrived, face void of emotion. I decided to get some sleep.

* * *

Hamilton did not give it a quick skim.

Twenty-four hours passed and I told Hendricks to have a seat, this was apparently going to take a while. He didn't.

Another twelve hours passed and though it was nightfall, I was told to go to Washington's tent right away.

"Sir." I stepped in, not eager for another scolding.

"You wrote this?" He asked, Hamilton stood silently by his side.

"Yes, sir." I hoped my handwriting wasn't an issue.

"Even after Hamilton's detailed remarks, I decided to read it myself." Oh. He looked at me, "I must say, I'm impressed." My knees nearly gave out right then. Oh, thank goodness.

"Thank you, sir."

"The British are offering more supplies than we are."

"Yes, sir. I managed to work that point with Officer Spencer, saying that we couldn't offer more than the number you'll see there, and if we really wanted to make a difference, we'd have to make it count. I managed to leverage that because we're situation one of the Paradises close to where his son is. So the British will provide more supplies, but we'll send an equal amount of medics."

"So all the Paradises are completely neutral." Washington finished, nodding a little, "I guess I should have trusted my first instinct, the one that made you my negotiator."

"I tried to get him to stop the war altogether, sir, but neither of us could agree with the other. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, this agreement is more than I ever could have hoped for from that meeting. I still think it was wrong of you to leave." His expression softened, "But I must say … I'm glad you did." I didn't know what to say to that, so I stayed silent. "Hamilton has some questions?"

"You're sure that the King will sign?"

"I trust that Officer Spencer is sufficiently motivated." I said, "I also trust that the King won't actually read the agreement, and the probabilities of him finding out that he's giving more than we are… well, they're low. If he does, officer spencer is prepared to play with his emotions. We spoke on this matter in depth. He'll try to make it seem like something small that the king will sign off on without much thought."

"And the locations…"

"Strategically placed where they will be available to both sides, accessible, but the routes the carriages take won't be very advantageous to either side."

"And everyone will know?"

"He's already written the letters to every post to send the moment the Agreement is fully signed upon. I have, as well, for our side. All that's left is to send them."

"And american and british working together in one tent, treating each other…"

"I think it'll sway us toward peace." I told him truthfully, "And I don't think the animosity will be too high. Everyone is instructed to wear white, not red or blue. We can have this plan up and running in just a couple of months."

"Good." Washington said, "Because I've already signed. I want you to deliver this to Officer Spencer in person, I wouldn't want it to get lost."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir, may I accompany her?"

"No, Hamilton, I need you here. I think she's proved she can handle herself." He dismissed us and we left the tent.

"I'll be fine." I assured him, "I'll go, give him the document, then come straight back. He's proved to be trustworthy." I smiled, "Thank you for backing me up there. I really appreciate it."

"Promise me you'll take it easy when this is over."

"I promise." I said, smiling playfully, "Say hi to Lee for me." He scowled at that and I laughed, "See you soon."

* * *

I went back, for what left like the millionth time.

I walked up to his estate calmly, waved to the guard, who knew me by now, and they let me in.

"Hello?" I called when I entered, and I met Spencer in our much-used conference room. I held out the document. "Signed." I told him, "I was told to leave it in your hands." he took it with a smile.

"That's excellent news." But he seemed put off.

"Are you alright?"

"My son…" Was he dead?

"Can I help?"

"Yes, actually." Suddenly, there was a gun pointed at me. "Your side has my son."

"I can talk to Washington…"

"No!" He seemed overwhelmed with worry, "I will keep my word and send this to the King, get him to sign it. This… is another matter."

"Spencer." I said, tense, "I trusted you."

"And you'll be home as soon as my son is!"

A bag was thrust over my head from behind, and my wrists tied behind my back. No, no, no, no, no. I was dragged back and I stumbled. This was bad.


	8. Dinner

**It's a little late, but I've been stuck in traffic all day. I find this chapter** **particularly... satisfying. A little break from the political chaos. Enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

I was taken to one of the British camps, treated with little to no respect.

The bag was removed and I was in a tent with some soldiers.

"She's of high value to General Washington." Spencer said, "We will hold a prisoner exchange. Keep her alive, I have another meeting to attend to." And he was gone.

"Nice prisoner." One of the men came close and I stumbled back.

"Don't touch me." I spat. For that, he slapped me. I cringed back.

"Talkative." he noted, annoyed.

"That might be useful." Said another, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me onto his lap, "How about you tell us what the other side's got planned, sweetheart?"

"I don't know." His hand slithered lower down my back. "I really don't, I've spent all my time drafting an agreement with Spencer, until that is, he stabbed me in the back."

"Drafting an agreement." They laughed, "A woman playing any part in this war…"

"I've tended to your wounded." I informed him testily, "And I treat them with respect, something you should learn."

With a shove and a kick to the gut, I was left alone.

* * *

Days passed. Spencer came in after several weeks.

"Write." he ordered.

"What?" I asked hoarsely. I had not been treated well.

"They're asking for proof of life. Write something. They'll recognize your handwriting." I took the quill shakily, then jabbed it into his arm and as he screamed, I sprinted out. I'd hitch a ride, hide, get the hell out of here…

"Stop!" A bullet whizzed by and I hit the floor. Getting shot would get me nowhere.

Two men grabbed my arms and dragged me back as I struggled and Spencer was taken to a medic, with orders to get me to write. I was crying as a new quill was thrust into my hand and a piece of parchment placed in front of me. My hand shook.

"Write."

"I… I…"

"Anything."

"Go to hell."

"You're right, you need something to write with. Hm, we're all out of ink." One men held me back and another grazed a knife against my arm, right below the shoulder, as I screamed.

Blood gushed out.

"Write." I dabbed the quill in my blood as I trembled in shock and pain.

 _Alexander, the stench of hate is thick, yet the moon shines just as brightly, we share a sky, a moon. If I die, I'll see you on the other side. Give a hug to Lafayette for me. Don't fight, who am I kidding, but fight reasonably. I do not plan on dying, but things don't always go ac-_

"That's enough." They took the parchment away and I gripped my arm, crying. I had to fix this. I found some medical supplies in the tent and wrapped my arm up tightly, trying and failing to stop sobbing.

More days passed and I was questioned, kicked, abused. I gained another cruel cut on my leg, which I also treated.

* * *

One day, I was removed from the stinking tent.

One of the men who'd looked after me the whole time gripped my injured arm tightly, and I kicked him in the shins, the soldiers had to drag me to a carriage. I was gagged, tied, and the bag was put over my head again.

I was pulled out and made to stand.

"Prisoner exchange!" Called a British voice, "Mr. Gregory Spencer for Miss Constance Rivers." I was shoved forward and I walked on shaky legs, blindly. Warm arms caught me and hugged me tightly. I was put onto another carriage, bag and gag hurriedly removed.

Alex.

I cried.

He hugged me tightly to him as I sobbed.

"Next time." he said lightly, "I'm coming." I laughed between tears, and with that, I gradually calmed down. He pulled away. "You're hurt."

My bandages were starting to bleed through.

"C-cut." I whispered shakily, "A-arm and leg. I…" I took a quick breath, "I did the best I could…"

"We'll be to a medic soon. Hang on." He poked out his head, "To the nearest Hospital! Now!"

By the time we got there, I was faint.

But with proper treatment, I was eventually fine. No infections, and once I was stitched up, the bleeding came to a stop. I was forced to lay in bed for a couple of weeks, but soon I was good as new.

* * *

Alex escorted me out of the hospital.

"Thank you." I whispered, "For everything, but…" I look at him, "Shouldn't you be back at the camp?" At that, I saw his jaw shift.

"I've been ordered to go home."

"What?"

"I got into a fight." He sighed, "Against your advice."

"Just goes to show that you should always listen to me."

"I see that now." He turned to me, "But listen to me for a moment."

"Okay."

"I guess I never quite realized how much I cared about you until I thought I'd lost you. Which is why I have to ask you a question."

"Okay."

"You have to say yes."

"Okay?"

"Marry me." I blinked, cheeks reddening in a second. Here? In the middle of the dusty street outside the hospital with the sun beating on me and my leg still aching? Now? As I limped out of my treatment and there was a war going on? This was hardly a romantic setting. And yet...

"Come again?"

"Marry me." he insisted, cradling my face in his hands, "Marry me."

"Well, you do have a way with words." He laughed but seemed anxious. What was I supposed to say to that? So out of nowhere. So I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Buy me dinner first." He blinked, then took my wrist and led me forward. "Where are we going?"

"I'm buying you dinner."

"It's the middle of the day." He didn't stop and I laughed.

"I know a good eating house, best in New York." We walked all the way there, but they refused to serve dinner for lunch, even though Alex insisted it must be dinner. We left and he took me elsewhere.

"Where are we?" I asked as we approached a small house.

"You haven't seen it before." he said, "This is my house." His house? He let me in as I looked around. I found a study with a desk overflowing with paper.

"I'll be right back! Make yourself at home!" And he was off.

I took one of the many books from one of the many bookshelves and began to read quietly, trying to wrap my mind around the idea. Getting married. I mean, I was in that kind of age, and I cared for Alex, of course I did. We'd been through everything together.

But it sure felt like settling down.

I mean, I'd lost all hope of being brought back to the present, that was granted.

I'd always wanted to get married.

And my chances of marrying anyone I cared about in this century…

But did I love him?

What a silly question. Of course I did.

* * *

"Constance!" He called and I stood, surprised. He came to me, took the book and left it on his desk, then led me forward to the dining room.

A beautiful dinner was in place.

"You cook?" I asked dubiously.

"No." he said, sounding out of breath, "But I know a lot of people who do." He held out my chair and I sat. Candles and closed curtains to make it look darker than it was.

"Dinner, hm?" I said, amused.

"Dinner." He confirmed, holding up a glass of wine. I took mine as well, hesitating a little before taking a sip.

"This is lovely." I said, "Is that bread freshly baked?"

"Just out of the oven." He confirmed eagerly, "And this, I spoke to Mrs. Doberman and she said that dinner now was ridiculous, then started on this whole lecture about how if the revolution is going change the…" I listened to his story, smiling as I ate the good food. It was my favorite. He'd remembered.

"This is unreasonably good." I told him.

"And the wine?" he asked, "I know you don't drink much, so it's mild and sweet."

"I noticed." He nodded, sort of reassuring himself. He spoke so fast when he was nervous…

And soon, it was all gone. He waited, until he finally couldn't anymore.

"I've bought you dinner." he told me.

"You've bought me dinner." I agreed, standing, which made him quickly stand as well. I took a letter out of my pocket and handed it to him, "I hope you don't mind that I've borrowed your stationary. I'll be in your study, finishing that book." I left him to read what I had written.

He came into the study with tears in his eyes, pulled me to my feet, then pulled me close to him, before lowering his face to mine.

We kissed.

We emerged and he took a step back, holding my hand in his. He took something out of his pocket and then slid it onto my finger. A ring?!

"I didn't have the money to inscribe much in it." he told me, "Only…" I took it off and look inside it. An A and a C. I slipped it back on and kissed him again, then hugged him.

"Just in case." I whispered, "Um, yes." He laughed.

"Good."

* * *

We started to make plans but three days after our engagement, he received a letter.

"What is it?" he didn't answer, "Alex?"

"I'll be back before you know it…"

"They've called you back." I realized with a touch of dread, "Don't go."

"I have to."

"No, you don't." Yes, he did. "I'll go with you."

"I need you to be safe right here."

"I can help."

"You already have."

"Alex!"

"I'm going to win the war and then I'm going to come back and marry you." He seemed so sure… "Trust me."

"If you die, I'm yanking your ghost back here to get a piece of my mind." He laughed.

"I'd expect nothing less.

"Stay alive." I insisted, "And Lafayette too. Do you understand me? If you're not here to keep an eye on me, who knows what I might do? Everything you wouldn't want me to."

"Okay, okay." He said, kissing my forehead, "Read the end of that letter, it's for you. I'll see you soon, my love."

My love, nobody had ever called me that before.

I read the letter.

Tell Constance that I am grateful for all her service. She has made history, pushing completely against the tide. The White Agreement is in place and has been a huge success. I deeply regret what happened to her, and hope she is well and mostly unharmed. The next time I see her, we will be an independent nation.

I suddenly realized the year.

1781, the Battle of Yorktown.

Sure enough, though, we won.

* * *

I was reading, wondering if I should go out and speak to the florist again when a knock came. Mrs. Hughes perhaps? Maybe she needed help at the hospital again…

I opened the door.

Alex.

His arm in a sling and his face with a cut on it, I stared for several seconds, shock freezing me in place.

Then I threw my arms around him.

"Whoa! Ow!" He complained playfully, "Man down!"

"You bet!" I hit his head, "Took you long enough! I want a refund, you're not in perfect shape."

"No refunds." he told me, smiling and kissing me. "We won."

"Yeah, we did." I agreed, "Finally." I hugged him tightly and hear a snicker. I looked up to see none other than Lafayette on the road behind us, waiting patiently, making not effort to conceal his laughter. He looked banged up too.

I stalked toward him.

"Uh-oh." I heard Hamilton laugh. I smacked Lafayette on the head too, making him laugh and complain.

"That's for keeping me away from making history."

"I regret nothing." I then hugged him quickly.

"That's for not dying. Come in." The three of us walked in and I got us something to drink, "So, you idiots wave your guns around enough to intimidate the British into backing down?"

"Basically." Hamilton agreed.

"Well, do me a favor and no more guns now, please."

"They wouldn't match your dress." Lafayette teased and I looked at Hamilton.

"You told him?"

"It's all he would talk about." Lafayette complained loudly as Hamilton tried to get him to shut up, face red, "He finally did it, he had to give you dinner first, the poem, the ring, the date, the dress, the letters where he tried to woo you, how he always really knew you were the one, how beautiful you are, how smart... anyone who had ears heard all of it, and I listened to it time after time after…"

"I, um, have to write a letter." he quickly fled as I laughed, flattered.

"You're a terrible person." I told my friend.

"I try."

"You're coming, then?" I asked anxiously.

"Please, you couldn't get me away if you tried."

"Good."

* * *

Everything was arranged, Lafayette was the best man, Hercules the flower girl, and Hannah, a nurse friend from the hospital, was the maid of honor.

I had a white dress, flowers. They even took our picture. A befuddled Laurens accidentally caught the bouquet. When all was said and done, we turned to the bar where we'd first met, and they all got wasted as I rolled my eyes and sipped champagne.

"Well, if it isn't Aaron Burr, sir!" I turned in surprise.

"Burr." I greeted, "It's been a long time." He looked at me.

"Constance." He said, "Yes, I'm glad to see you made a life for yourself."

"Even if it is married to this idiot." Laurens added, gaining an elbow in the gut.

"I didn't think you would make it." Alex said.

"Sure, I couldn't miss this."

* * *

After all that, I was happy. I sat with Alex in the study as he read a letter he'd received from George Washington.

"He's president now, isn't he?" I asked, "First of many, I'm sure."

"Yes, he's forming his government now." I suddenly remembered what Alexander Hamilton was known for across history.

"And he wants you."

"Yes. Treasury Department." He said, "I have to go."

"Okay, I'll go with you." He looked at me, "I want you to be able to work calmly. We'll go, live there. I don't mind."

"That's not it." he said, "There's another letter for you." I blinked, taking it.

"He wants me to go?" I asked, confused. "Not as treasury or state or any of that… a sort of advisor, but you're his advisors… he says here he doesn't feel you'll get along so easily." I shot him a humorous look, "Basically he wants me to help everyone get along and give him my opinion on matters. I don't have a title or anything…"

"Let's go." I shared a grin.


	9. Doll

**Well, before we continue, I'd like to make an honorable mention to Laurens and Mulligan, who don't get much more than mentions in this fic, but are admittedly awesome. There's someone else, though, you haven't met him yet, you haven't had the chance, but while I unfortunately cannot make you hear his beautiful voice try and imagine it. Enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

First Cabinet meeting. I knew Hamilton had something brewing, I'd already spoken to the President, explaining to him that I was never really into politics before.

"I mean, I did what I could for the war." I told him, "But when it comes to sticking my head into politics, i find it can get ugly."

"Which is why I want you." I laughed.

"Okay, okay. I'm here anyways because of Alexander."

"Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you, Mr. president."

"The meeting will begin in an hour, so feel free to get yourself something to drink."

I did, and while Hamilton was cooped up putting the finishing touches on his devious plan, some sort of financial thing, I waited around in the empty room.

A man stepped in, and my heart quickened, could this be Thomas Jefferson? He had the vibe, the perfect posture, and air of confidence. I'd heard a lot about him and I thought it was so cool to be seeing him…

Enough that Hamilton was annoyed.

"Hello." He greeted as he stepped in and I prepared myself for an introduction, "Be a doll and bring me a glass of water."

"Excuse me?" He blinked and turned back to me, having already turned to talk with his buddy.

"I said…"

"See, I can try and take that as a compliment if you're referring to me as a doll as in pretty. But see I'm also hearing empty, particularly the head, and seeing as you haven't bothered to ask my name before demanding I do something, then I'd imagine the term refers to you better than it does to me."

"Simmer down." Hamilton said humorously as he stepped in. The man I'd insulted leaned forward angrily. "Mister Jefferson? I trust you had a good trip?"

"It was going fine until now."

"Constance doesn't appreciate rudeness." Alex explained calmly.

"She your wife?"

"Yes."

"What's she doing here then? Control her." Alex caught my arm as I jerked forward furiously.

"I'm here because the president told me to." I informed him, "I'll be advising, so I advise you show some more respect for women, Mr. Jefferson." He looked at me for a long time before laughing.

"Okay, okay." He accepted, "New times, why not? I suppose you're gonna tell me to get my own water."

"You suppose right."

"Fair enough." He walked off and Hamilton was amused as he tried to get me to calm down.

* * *

The cabinet meeting began and suddenly the two men weren't so friendly, more like sworn enemies all of a sudden. And very rude to each other.

"Excuse me!" Washington interrupted as Hamilton finished. I took his arm as he and Jefferson came at each other, seeming ready to throw punches.

"That's enough, you two." I said, "Let's walk it off, shall we?"

"You don't have the votes." Jefferson mocked.

"Enough." I said firmly, "Come on, Alex, the president wants to speak to you." I waited outside as he spoke.

"Well," Jefferson said as he approached me, "I suppose you agree with your husband."

"I don't like suppositions."

"So you agree with me?"

"I'm supposed to stay neutral here, Mr. Jefferson." I told him, "I give my opinion to the president only."

"But you have one?"

"Inevitably. But I think shoving opinions down others throats is how arguments arise, and I don't like those."

"Clearly." he left with Madison, who was coughing. I stopped him. "What?"

"Not you." I informed him coldly before turning to Madison, "Mr. Madison? How long have you been sick?"

"I don't see why that's important."

"I was a medic during the war." I told him, "And I… well, what I did is irrelevant."

"A couple of weeks." He admitted, "I've already spoken to a doctor…"

"Well, listen to me anyways." I said, "Keep away from the cold, okay? Bundle up and try to cover your mouth and nose as often as possible. Hot water with honey and a squeeze of lemon does wonders, trust me. Eat plenty, to keep your strength up, and close your window when you sleep, please."

"Alright."

"Good, I hope you feel better soon."

"As do I…" He sauntered off and I met with Alex, who seemed upset. Jefferson was right: He didn't have the votes.

* * *

"Aaron Burr!" Hamilton and I greeted the man kindly.

"What have you been up to?" Alex asked.

"I'm Senator now." Burr said.

"Very nice!"

"Yes." He agreed, "And you?"

"I have to convince Jefferson and Madison to get on board my plan."

"That won't be easy."

"No." he agreed wearily.

"And you?" Burr turned to me.

"I'm here to make sure they don't eat each other alive." I said cheerfully.

"Alexander." We turned to see Thomas waiting impatiently.

"I have to go." Alex said, waving goodbye.

"But…"

"We'll see you later." I promised and we went to dinner.

* * *

You could cut the tension with a knife. I smiled when Madison ordered hot water with honey, and he did seem a little better.

Thomas knew better than to argue my presence, but he did give me a look.

And so, negotiations began.

"Okay, Constance?" The three men turned to me, "Come on, tell us what you think."

"I like keeping the peace better."

"Then tell us what you think about the financial plan." Thomas said and I gave a small sigh.

"Well, seeing as we're an upcoming nation, I don't think it's at all wrong that the government should assume state debt. Yes, Virginia's debts are paid, but Hamilton's point on slavery stands. In the north, they pay for labor, leaving them with less money to pay debts. We're supposed to be working together, so dividing ourselves in the north and the south isn't going to help matters. As for the national bank, I think the idea is solid, we want to organize our financials, if we don't get a hold on our economy from the start, then the nation could very well crash and burn before we get it off the ground. Now, do I believe that we could have another location in the south, sure. The same bank system, but balanced." They blinked at me, "And that, gentlemen, is my opinion. But feel free to keep yelling, the food is good."

"So you do agree with your husband." Madison said dryly.

"I do when he's right." That made my husband grin and chuckle.

"I can work out the second location." Hamilton said slowly.

"Sure." Jefferson said, "But we want something else in exchange for the votes."

"What?"

"The capital." I groaned a little as Hamilton heatedly answered. "That's what we want."

"Then no second location."

"The second location is a good idea." Madison said, "We like it."

"Well, it would just be headache for me and if I'm even thinking, which I'm not sure I am, about giving you the capital."

"Done." Jefferson interrupted, "We get the capital, you get your financial plan."

"…done."

Finishing that dinner was awkward.

I sighed as I walked with Alex home.

"What?"

"I know you got more than you gave." I told him.

"Are you angry about the second location?"

"Not at all, I just thought we could use it as leverage. I trust your system doesn't need it."

"Good." He wrapped an arm around me and we kept walking, "You impressed them today."

"I don't think I did."

"I disagree."

Well, the plan went through and thing began to look up. Alex was busy and so was I, but we were happy.

* * *

Then came another cabinet meeting, we'd already discussed several matters, but there was a pressing one.

"The issue on the table, France is engaged in a revolutionary war as we speak. Do we provide aid? Or do we stay out of it? You only need to convince me. Secretary Jefferson?"

He said several things I agreed with, France had helped us, practically gotten us a victory, and all they asked for was our help when it was their turn. I thought back to Lafayette, who had left as soon as our wedding had ended, how sad I'd been he had to live through more war.

Hamilton, much to my surprise, didn't agree. France was too unstable, violent to be poking at. I guess he had a point too.

The meeting ended and Washington left to think about it. As people left to get some fresh air before reconvening, I saw Jefferson lay back and rub his fingers against his temples. I approached him cautiously.

He opened an eye and straightened a little, shooting me a weary look.

"What?" With a wry smile, I held out a glass of water.

"Just this once." I told him. "Migraine?" He blinked, then smirked a little and took the water.

"Yes, actually." He admitted, "Nothing I can't handle."

"I've had those." I told him, "Feels like someone stabbed a fork into your brain, right here." I tapped my temple and he laughed.

"Sounds about right."

"Well, water can help, sometimes it's dehydration. Often times, it's stress."

"What? But I lead such a peaceful life." I laughed. "If that's it, then it's part of the job."

"Well, what helps me the most." I told him, "Is lying down in a quiet, dark room. The light and noise make it worse."

"Good to know." He sipped his water, "Don't you need to go discuss this with the president?"

"Yes, actually." I frowned, "Drink all of that and get some sleep tonight, please."

I entered Washington's office.

When we emerged, I sat down and listened.

"Hamilton is right." Washington said, "It's too dangerous for a new nation, and they don't have anyone to lead them… they're rioting. Hamilton, draft a statement of neutrality." Hamilton told me he'd meet me at home and rushed to do just that.

I hung back, organizing my papers.

"That's it, huh?" I looked up to see Jefferson coming to me angrily, "Whisper in the president's ear, make him go your husband's way."

"I'm getting a migraine myself." I told him quietly, "Not that I need to tell you this, but since you so politely asked, I actually told Washington to provide the aid, something, anything. He refused. Now Lafayette…"

"You know Lafayette?"

"You know him?"

"Our Declaration of Independence isn't the only one I've worked on."

"Great." I said, "That's good… I knew him right at the beginning of the war, same time I met Hamilton. We were friends, good friends." I sighed and rubbed my own temples, laughing lightly, "Well, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Jefferson, my husband's expecting me."

"How do you stand him?"

"I love him." I told Jefferson, standing to leave, "And he respects me." He scowled at that remark.

* * *

"Alex."

"Wait a minute, I've sent the statement but the bank… I'll be there in a minute."

"Alex." I repeated, louder, letting some of my anger leak into my voice. He looked up.

"What is it?"

"What was that?" I asked, appalled, "You have to be kidding me!"

"What?"

"Lafayette was one of our closest friends." I told him, "He still writes, how am I supposed to write to him when… he did everything he could for us, did you know he didn't ask for a penny in return? All he wanted was help when he needed it."

"You went against me in your meeting with Washington." He realized.

"He still didn't listen to me! I begged him for one ship, a bit of supplies, a couple of men, we have guns that we have no need for… to give him at least a third of what he gave us. He refused. If you had told him, Alex, he would have agreed."

"It's too dangerous to meddle right now…"

"I'm not saying send everyone." I said, "If they're unstable, help stabilize them! I just…" I was furious, "We let one of our closest friends down today." I winced at the migraine got worse.

"A headache." he said, coming to me and hugging me tightly against his chest. "I hear you, I'm sorry you're upset. But I truly believe in what I said."

"I know." I mumbled, "I don't want to fight."

"Me neither. Come, get into bed."

"…okay."


	10. Seasick

**How about a little field trip? Should be an interesting combination of characters coming up. If you have thoughts on this story, I'd be glad to hear them. Most importantly though, enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

Days passed and I began to write letters, to go out, do all sorts of things to gain favors and cash them in. I had to. I juggled work with the president as well, checking up to make sure Jefferson and Madison were taking care of themselves.

Then I got the letter I'd been waiting for.

I ate dinner in silence, before clearing my throat.

"Alex?"

"Yes?" I chickened out, stayed silent, "You look beautiful today." I looked at him and smiled, then took a shaky breath.

"I'm going to France."

"What?" He looked at me, confused, "France?"

"I, um, I've spent the last few weeks putting something together, a small ship, I had to cash in a lot of favors, write a lot of letters…" I looked at him a smiled a little, "I'm helping Lafayette."

"Constance." He said, frowning, "You can't. It's one of the bloodiest wars in history. They cut off the king's head."

"I know."

"And you have a life here, a job…"

"It's more of an honorary position." I told him, "I don't do much more than read and give an opinion. Washington doesn't need me. If I lose my job because I'm away…" I shrugged, "Then I lose my job. Some things are more important."

"I thought this job was important to you."

"Not as important as helping a friend and keeping a promise." I looked into his eyes, "You're so busy anyways…"

"I'll find the time to spend with you." he said hurriedly.

"I'll come back." I told him, "It's just for a little while, I want to do what I can, then I'll come straight back and spend all the time you want. It's been forever since I got a letter from you." I smiled faintly.

"Our letters would take weeks to arrive." he told me, "Maybe even months."

"Then they had better be good." I said with a smile.

"No. You can't go. It's far too dangerous."

"I'm not asking permission." I told him gently, "I'm letting you know. Like I said, I'll be back before you know it."

"I never use this, and I wish I never had to… but no, I won't allow it." I didn't get offended though, like he expected me to. Instead, I hugged him tightly.

"Write him a letter." I whispered, "So I can give it to him. I've already told him I'm coming so he'll be waiting for me. I leave tomorrow." I kissed him.

"Don't go." He whispered.

"Write me something too." I said cheerfully, "So I have something to read on the boat."

"I don't get a say in this, do I?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Washington might have you arrested for this."

"Which is why I'm being discreet." He looked at me for a long time, "I love you."

"I love you." he said, then sighed, "Apparently, I have a lot of writing to do. But you're sitting with me." I sat on his lap and read a book while he wrote.

Once my bags were packed, I set off.

* * *

I got onto the boat, thanking the captain for everything he'd done. I checked to make sure all the supplies I'd managed to gather were there. Yes, the cargo of the ship was full of them. To be discreet, however, we were taking more random people who needed to cross the Atlantic. I had no soldiers, though.

I stood at the bow of the ship, staring at the water with distrust. I hated the ocean.

"Constance?" I whirled around in surprise to see none other than Jefferson, with his walking stick and bright coat. He seemed confused.

"Jefferson." I said, "This is an unexpected surprise."

"I didn't realize you were going to France."

"I didn't know you were going either." I said. We stared each other down.

"Hamilton know you're here?"

"Yes."

"He approve?"

"Not really." I shot the water another look.

"Why don't we talk inside?"

We sat at a table and were served lunch. I watched him for a while, how comfortable he felt on a ship. I was already feeling sick. But I got the feeling his presence here wasn't too public.

"Why are you going to France?" I asked him.

"I heard some things about this particular ship." he said, "Something about secret French aid."

"Oh."

"I suppose you heard the same rumors." I scanned him. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I could use a man like Jefferson on my little crusade. Would he be willing to help? Well, he was here.

"Actually." I said slowly, "I put this together." He put down his fork.

"You're kidding."

"I have a way with words, Mr. Jefferson, or so I've been told, I called in a lot of favors, got some food, drink, medical supplies, even weapons. It wasn't easy. But I'm going to try and help Lafayette in any way I can."

"You're going to help?" He asked dryly, "Like you helped in the last war?"

"Like you did?" I shot back, "I did help, I saved lives, I wrote the agreements…"

"What agreement?"

"The White Agreement." I told him, "You probably haven't even heard of it, it was a sort of peace… Jefferson?" He'd gone very quiet, eyes widening.

"You wrote that?" he sputtered.

"And I graduated King's college." I told him, "You keep underestimating me. However…" I frowned, looking down at my untouched food, "That doesn't mean I'm not going to ask for you help, Thomas."

"My help?" His little smile told me he was interested.

"You've worked with the French before, I've never even been to France. I'm not entirely sure about the procedures going forward here. And you know what's going on, you know how we can help and you can actually do it. We have little to work with but…"

"Alright." he agreed, leaning back, "Let's help France."

"Thank you."

* * *

The trip was long, very long. And boats definitely weren't my thing. Thomas checked on me when I got a little seasick, telling me that I'd better pull myself together before we arrived. His twisted form of concern. I got to know him pretty well, actually, and had a lot of interesting conversations and debates with the man on our journey. The boat docked, at last, and I all but ran off it.

As I stepped down, a man ran to me.

My friend.

He took my arms, eyes wide like he couldn't believe them. For a second he was quiet. Then…

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"Well, you asked for a ship." I reminded him, then gestured behind me.

"What?" He breathed, "But the US claimed neutrality." He said, "They said they wouldn't get involved."

"Technically, they aren't." I said, "I am. I have supplies, as much as I could gather on my own. And myself, to help you however you need."

"You shouldn't have come." he said in a low voice, "It's dangerous out here, riots every day. Some supplies alone don't merit…"

"Not just supplies." I told him, "I brought one more thing. A person. You know him." We looked behind me as Jefferson gracefully descended, breathing in the French air with a smile.

"Jefferson?" He came over to us.

"Lafayette, it's been a while."

"Not long enough."

"I agree, but it seems you still have some trouble on your hands. We're here to help you. Take it."

"You shouldn't have let her come." Lafayette said, gripping my shoulder protectively, "Hamilton should have stopped her as well."

"I couldn't have stopped her if I tried." Jefferson said dryly, shooting me a weary look, "If I threw her overboard, she'd just swim here,"

Lafayette sighed.

"You're disorganized." I said reasonably, "Let's try and find a little order, shall we? Where do you need these supplies?"

"Let's just take everything coming from America, including you, to my Estate, oui? We'll figure it out there."

"Okay, then."

* * *

Jefferson walked into Lafayette's home like he did any other room: radiating comfort and confidence. I got the impression he'd been here before. I was just astonished at how big it was.

"Make yourselves comfortable." Lafayette said, eyeing me with weariness, "I'll be with you in a minute."

"Oh, wait." I said, taking out a thick envelope, "There are some letters here, from Hamilton, I think one is for you." I opened the envelope, and handed it to Lafayette, then kept looking through names, frowning in surprise.

"That's weird." I looked up at Jefferson, who was looking out the window to the beautiful scenery. "Um, there's one for you." He turned, "I have no idea how Hamilton even knew you'd be here."

"That man frightens me sometimes." He held out his hand and I passed it to him. I eyed the one that was for me and decided to leave it for later. It was thick, so I knew it would be quite the read.

Jefferson sat and scoffed as he read.

"What?" i asked.

"It's like he's actually speaking to me." he said, "I can hear him yelling all these things to me"

"Does it say how he knew you'd be here?"

"He guessed." Jefferson caught my dubious look, "Really, he guessed, and wrote this in case he was right. Wants me to keep an eye on you." I sighed.

"Of course he does."

"Funny, I got a similar letter." Lafayette remarked, returning.

"Are you kidding me?" I complained.

"And I've written one in response, Jefferson? Do you need my postman?"

"Yes, actually." He sighed, "Give me a minute to write a response."

"Very well, hurry up." I sat with Lafayette in the sitting room, sipping the tea that had been offered to me.

"I love your house." I told him in awe.

"Thank you."

"You're still mad."

"Mad is the wrong word." He told me, sighing, "But yes."

"Well, don't be." I told him cheerfully, "Look on the bright side, it's been months since we saw each other. I've enjoyed your letters."

"Have you enjoyed being married to such a headstrong man?"

"Yes, actually."

"Well, that's good to hear. I'm curious, how did you get a hold of all these supplies?"

"It's not much." i told him, "But I started writing to everyone I knew had been involved in the war, asking for them for any guns and ammunition that they had no use for, I spoke to widows and other friends who helped provide food and blankets. It took forever, but I got enough to fill the ship."

"Why?" At that, I laughed.

"Why do you think? Because we promised you." He shook his head, smiling.

"I see. Well, because you seem so good at promises, promise me something else."

"What?"

"Stay alive and return to your husband safe."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm done." Jefferson handed his letter to the postman and took a seat, and I took a moment to admire his flawless posture. "Can we talk business?"

"Yes." Lafayette agreed. "I can spread these supplies to the places necessary."

"Wait." Jefferson said, "I think we have to think this through a little."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, there are factions, aren't there?" he asked, "Riots, a thousand different ideas swirling left and right."

"Yes."

"So, we choose who we want to get stronger, give them the supplies, hope they can start to restore order."

"That's a good idea." I said, "But we have to get a good look at these factions."

"Which is difficult." Lafayette said, "because this Monarchy has left and now we have anarchy, no one truly in charge."

"Do we know what the people want?" Jefferson asked.

"Power." Lafayette shrugged, "To be heard."

"Democracy then." I suggested, "The people choose who they want in power. Because they need a leader right now."

"But do they want one?" Jefferson asked, then sighed, "This won't be easy."

"Let's find some candidates."

* * *

That night, I lay in bed and read Hamilton's letter to me, crying and laughing. Wow. This was definitely some of his finest work. I really did feel like he was sitting beside me, whispering in my ear. I spent the night writing a heartfelt response, giving it to the postman in the morning.

Our planning went on for days, then our execution was careful. I helped Lafayette and Jefferson write letters to the appropriate people, taking charge of anything that was in Spanish, letting then use their increased fluency in French for the letters to Parisians, while Jefferson and I divided and conquered the ones in English. There were a lot of people we had to get on board. We sent supplies and at night, what seemed like lightning and thunder… was something else entirely.

It was slow, but the French began to respond to our effort, some in favor, some blatantly against. Several were offended by Jefferson's presence, and mine, for those who acknowledged it.

* * *

One evening, we all sat down at dinner to read our responses from Hamilton.

"Only he can travel to France through a letter." I sighed, content, "It's like he's sitting right here."

"I know." Jefferson complained. He finished first and looked out the huge glass doors that led to Lafayette's property. I was so absorbed by my letter, I didn't hear him until his third, "Hey!" I looked up, confused.

"What?" I asked, but Lafayette was looking out the doors too, squinting. I didn't see anything.

And then I did.

Shadows, shadows that weren't supposed to be there.

"Get down!" Lafayette instantly yelled as something bright flew our way.

BAM!


	11. Promise

**A little late today, yet I nevertheless return. Things are getting hot with the French and I'd like to give a good wave at our favorite fightin' frenchman even if he takes on more of a secondary role here. Also, once again, if you have any thoughts, questions, feel free to ask or comment either through a review or PM. And, once again, the most important thing if for you to enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

BAM!

The glass shattered, along with everything else as something exploded. The force knocked me back, sent me tumbling. Fire, pain, screams, danger, but I couldn't seem to move. My ears were ringing. Coughing made me look up to see Jefferson leaning against a wall, covered in ash. I couldn't see Lafayette from where I lay but I prayed he was alright.

But it only got worse.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Shots. Guns.

I ducked down and suddenly there was an arm around me, Jefferson pulled me behind a wall to relative safety, shielding me as we ducked our heads, waited for the gunfire to stop.

"We need to move." he told me.

"L-Laf…"

"He'll be fine." he told me, "Come on!" Arm still tightly around me, we crawled to the edge of our hideout, "He has a safe room, we have to get to it."

Because who knew when the bombing and gunfire would stop.

When the gunfire temporarily ceased, and I knew they were reloading their weapons, we used the smoke as cover and moved.

It resumed and while Jefferson didn't stop, propelling me forward, I couldn't even tell what I was doing.

We fell forward into the next room and crawled under the stairs to a trap door. He opened it.

"Get in."

"I… I can't." He looked and I did too.

Blood.

Dammit.

Cursing, Jefferson hugged me tightly to him and descended us both into the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

Lafayette was waiting.

"Good." He rushed to us, cut up and holding his arm, "Oh, good. We should be…" We all winced as the room shook, "…safe."

"Move." Jefferson ordered, and he sat me on the table as I gasped in pain.

My leg.

"Oh, no." My friend breathed, "No, no, no, no."

I still had the adrenaline pumping through my veins so I took advantage of it, half sitting up.

"Okay, I'm in sh-shock so I can't feel much pain yet." I stammered, "U-Um, it won't last long, L-Lafayette, you're hurt."

"Nothing." he insisted, but his grip on his arm was tight and his shirt damp with blood.

"Do you have medical supplies?"

"Yes, over there."

"J-Jefferson? Please get them." He did, quickly. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Lafayette's you're going to try to fix yourself up the best you can, from what I've taught you, okay? Jefferson? I… I can't do this myself so I need you to help me."

"Bad news, I've never done anything like this before." He said.

"I'll guide you… through." I stood an unsteady breath, "Does anyone have alcohol?" I gave Lafayette a look, to which he bashfully showed me his stash, "Okay, that'll disinfect my wounds, and yours. I…" I squeezed my eyes shut and took another breath, "Jefferson, I need you to pour some on my leg, t-try to find where the blood is coming from, check if the bullet's still there, you need to remove it…" Tears were forming in my eyes, "Then you're gonna wrap my leg up as tightly as you can. It's g-gonna hurt like hell though…" My voice broke, "S-so I need something to cover my mouth so I don't give away where we are… Now!" They took the pillow case and handed it to me, Lafayette making me take a swig of the strong alcohol first. "Sh-shock is fading now…" I lay down, panting, bit down on the pillow case, and eventually, thankfully, passed out from the pain.

* * *

When I woke again, the pain was not gone, but I was alive.

I gave a little gasp.

"Good, you're alive." Jefferson noted, "You're welcome." Jokes... I was grateful for it. He was carrying me, walking slowly through the woods. Laying back how I'd been earlier made it hard to breath so I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep myself sort of upright, panting and putting my chin on his shoulder. He held me confidently, which instantly comforted me. "You're gonna be fine." He told me, and I sniffled and nodded. After another hour of walking in silence, a rustle of the leaves told me someone else was there.

"There's a hospital a couple of miles forward." Lafayette said in a hushed tone, "…is she alive?"

"As ever." Jefferson responded dryly.

"I can take her if…"

"Lafayette, your arm couldn't take it if you tried. Don't need another one bleeding out on me. Don't think I'm gonna carry you too." At that, he laughed.

"Fair enough."

"Are…" I took a deep breath, "Are you two okay?"

"She's awake?" Lafayette hurried over, inspecting my face, "Good." He gave me a crooked smile, "Oui, cherie, we're fine."

"Good."

"You promised me something." He reminded me and I grinned.

"I know."

"Good." I started to doze off, oddly comfortable in Jefferson's arms. As my grip loosened, he spoke.

"Now don't go fallin' asleep, doll." He caught himself and chuckled, "Constance, I mean. I need a guarantee that you'll stay awake, or you might not wake up again."

"Comforting." I mumbled. Another while, and we reached a French hospital, where Lafayette instructed us not to speak anything other than French so we'd be treated well. Apparently, Jefferson had done a good job. There hadn't been a bullet to remove, it had flown straight through my leg, fairly superficial. It wasn't infected, and the blood I'd lost had mostly been before he'd gotten to it, the bandages had held up.

A doctor stitched me closed and freshly wrapped me, then I lay in the hospital for a couple of days, until Lafayette came, speaking in French, just in case.

"I have a ship prepared for your return." He told me quietly.

"What?" I asked, keeping it French, "There's so much left to do, you're in danger."

"I was not the target." No, Jefferson and I were. "They will calm down once you leave, and with what you two have already helped me with, this war will come to an end soon."

"I don't want to leave you here alone."

"You have to keep your promise." Right. He knew he'd have to use that against me eventually, I should have known. "You have helped me more than I ever could have hoped, Constance. Merci."

"All you have to do is write." I told him, "And I'll come back."

"I know you will."

"The doctors said I'll make a full recovery." I told him, "I'm not allowed to walk for a couple of weeks, but then I start to try and hopefully in some months I'll be good as new." That sounded long, "It hurts, but I'm okay."

"I disagree." He seemed angry, "Hamilton never should have let you come!"

"But I'm glad I did."

"Just take care of yourself." he pleaded, "You have done enough, Constance. Rest."

"I will."

"Good." He said, kissing each cheek, "I will write, oui? I have to go."

"Already?"

"I think I've made progress with a candidate."

"Then go. It was great seeing you."

"Oui."

"Au revior." And he left.

* * *

At dawn the following day, Jefferson had someone help me onto a carriage and we caught the first boat leaving. I was tucked into bed, and told to stay put and stay still.

A couple of days into the trip, I was going out of my mind, so when Jefferson checked on me, I begged him to let me go outside. I hopped on my good leg, leaning heavily against him, and we sat out on the deck, I stared up at the night sky with a relieved smile.

"The stars are the same."

"Oh?"

"In France and in America." I told him, "You can still see the Big Dipper and Orion's belt."

"You know stars?" He asked dryly.

"A little."

"Well, what you see up there ain't the big dipper." He told me, pointing, "See that? It's the little one. Big one's over there."

"Huh."

"I've never heard of Orion's Belt."

"Oh, that one's easy." I told him, "See those three stars in a sort of line over there."

"Huh." He seemed interested, beyond his usual state of radiating boredom. He turned when the waiter came and ordered some wine with our dinner, two glasses, he didn't even ask me.

"You like wine?" I asked. Most people I'd met liked beer better, few went for wine unless the occasion was really fancy.

"Trust me, you will too once you try this one." He told me.

"Okay, then." He gave a little sigh, looking out at sea.

"France is a beautiful country." He told me, "You didn't get to see the best of it."

"I can imagine."

"The cuisine, the art, the culture…"

"The language." I added, "It's beautiful."

"You'll have to visit again when it's gotten itself together." He told me, "I'll give you a list of places to go, things to eat."

"I'd like that."

"I tried something last time." He told me, "Called ice cream. Ingenious, the most delicious thing I've ever tasted." I had to hold back my excitement. Ice cream? Awesome!

"What was it like?" I asked, to be sure it was the right thing.

"White, creamy, freezing cold. I, of course, got the recipe."

"You must sent it to me then."

"Alright." he said, "I can have someone prepare it as well. This ship docks in Virginia, we can stay in Monticello until that idiot husband of yours comes for you."

"That's very kind of you." I told him, "Hamilton will appreciate it too."

"I doubt that." He held up his glass and I clinked it with mine. "Now try this." I sipped it.

"It's good." I told him. "It reminds me…" I smiled faintly, "Of the night Alex proposed." Thomas gave a slight groan.

"Let's stay away from the romance."

"Okay, okay." I smiled, "Hey, do you play chess?"

"Obviously?"

"Shall we?" He had a board brought over and we played as we spoke of what we liked and disliked, what experiences we'd lived.

"You ever seen a tornado?"

"Thankfully, no." I told him, "Though a small twister formed right behind me once!"

"What about earthquakes?"

"I've lived through a couple of tremors."

"You know, I'd be interested in learning Spanish."

"I can teach you if you like."

"Sure." He grinned and moved his bishop.

"Has anyone ever told you…" I asked, "That you're very French? I've seem Lafayette play this strategy a thousand times. Check." Thomas seemed surprised, but then he let out a wicked grin.

"Sure." he accepted, "But my true home's Virginia." He did a move I'd never seen before, "Check mate."

"No!" I cried, laughing. "Did not see that one coming."

"That's right, Virginia takes the victory." He said smugly. I suddenly winced. Ow, my leg was acting up again, "And on that note, you need to lay back down."

"I'm fine." I told him wearily, "We both know I'm stronger than a bullet."

"Be that as it may…" he stood and led me back to bed. "Rest for another day and I'll take you out again."

"Okay."

Next time, I got some more wine, different, and some great food. We went into a room with a couch and I was seated.

"I thought this might get you to sit still." A man came up and told me he was going to paint my portrait.

"Cool!" I said, grinning. I put on a nice dress and did my hair, then thought long and hard about a good pose. I sat down and carefully crossed my bad leg over my good, but as I put my arm on the couch and leaned back, (towards the armrest), my hair came undone, curls cascading over my face. I started to move to fix it.

"Freeze!" Said the painter, "Just like that, don't move." …Okay.

While I waited, I listened to beautiful violin music. Hours later, I was told to rest and my arm gave out. I sat up and pulled my hair back up, surprised to see Jefferson passing the violin to a waiter.

"That was you?" I asked, "I didn't know you could play."

"Well now you know."

* * *

Time flew by with the pleasant company, and at long last, the ship docked.

But I wasn't doing too great.

I mean, my leg was still healing, pretty consistently, but I felt I wanted to walk off this ship, so to not worry Alex too much when I finally saw him. I was sure of it, mind over matter, right?

Wrong, apparently.

When I was dressed and ready, I stood and tried to take a hesitant step forward.

A cry of pain later, I was on the floor.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Jefferson demanded as he stormed in, "I told you I'd be here in a second, you insane?" It really, really hurt. Like, way more than I thought it ever would, especially after so much recovery time. Damn it!

With a groan, Jefferson took me into his arms, much like he had when I'd first gotten shot. I held his shoulder, keeping myself upright, muttering apologies as he stepped, somehow gracefully, off the ship, even carrying me.

But as we descended, I spotted a familiar face in the crowd, a face that wasn't supposed to be there.

He only met with us once we were pretty far from the ship.

"Constance!" He ran toward us.

"Great." Jefferson said under his voice. "This should be fun." Hamilton put his warm hands on my face as he looked at me worriedly, while Jefferson leaned his head back, as far as his neck would stretch, clearly not enthusiastic about our reunion.

"What happened? Is she alright?"

"It's a long story…" I told him, "I'm fine, I promise."

"You were supposed to look after her!" Hamilton snapped at Jefferson.

"Don't blame me for sending your wife into an active war zone." Jefferson shot back, oddly calm.

"Lafayette's estate was attacked." I explained quickly, "Bombs, guns, it was terrible. We managed to make it to a safe room, Jefferson basically shielded me the whole time but…" I trailed off.

"She got shot in the leg." Jefferson told Hamilton, impatient, "We stopped the bleeding, got her to a hospital and came back. She was foolish enough to try to walk on it today. She's fine."

"I'll be the judge of that." Hamilton took me into his arms and I gave a little laugh.

"I'm fine."

"You're paler." he observed, "Your hair is longer, you were shot!"

"I guided Jefferson through making sure I didn't get infected or bled out." I told him, "It was a fairly superficial wound, and he carried me all the way to the hospital Lafayette found. He later shipped us the hell out of France. I was well taken care of." I watched my husband's lips press together in reluctance, but he looked up, locking eyes with Jefferson, who seemed to have bored by now, he looked up at the bright sky before meeting Hamilton's eyes.

"Thank you." His words shook, "Jefferson, I can't tell you…"

"Then don't." Jefferson said, "This all could've been avoided if we'd sent aid in the first place."

"…I see."

"Anyways, tell your wife to practice her chess strategies."

"His wife." I said pointedly, "Will."

"I am going home."

"We'll see you in New York." I said.

"No." He said, "I quit."

"What?" Hamilton asked.

"I've stopped agreeing with Washington a long time ago, and if I'm going to run against him…"

"Are you insane?" Hamilton said angrily. "Have you no loyalty?"

"You're one to talk." There was a tense silence, "Get you injured wife home, enjoy your position while you still have it." Hamilton opened his mouth to respond, then looked at me and shut it again, jaw set. He turned quickly and stalked away.

* * *

On the carriage ride home, he insisted to examine my leg.

"It's doing great." I told him, "I shouldn't have tried to walk ahead of time is all. A couple more weeks and I can start trying."

"You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't." I said brightly.

"Lafayette wrote to me, furious." He informed me, "I could tell because his English suffered, that happens when he gets upset. He told me a was insane for letting you go, a terrible husband…"

"He said that?" I asked, "It's not his place to say."

"But he was right." Hamilton said, holding me close, "I wasn't thinking, I should have stopped you."

"Listen to me." I whispered, "I'm perfectly alive, I'll have you know. And I returned to you, just like I promised. Now it's time we spent that time together." I kissed him and he kissed back fiercely.

"I missed you." He mumbled.

"I missed you too."


	12. Sounds like Alex

**Every action has its equal opposite reaction. Coming home only inspires the more complicated situations to surge. But first, something very, very simple... and unfathomably complex. Cryptic phrases aside, I'm curious as to what those readers who have gotten this far into the story think. Enjoy it while it lasts.**

 **Oh! Important! Introduction of a really important character coming up, though you won't guess who. This chapter contains one of my favorite scenes so pay** **attention.**

 **~The Cursed One**

Washington's retirement hit Hamilton hard. We had dinner with him one last time, thanked him for everything before he left to the peace he'd always wanted with his beloved wife Martha. It was a great night, I heard about a certain feral cat that had been named after a certain feral man. But when all was said and done, and the lights went out in our bedroom, I faintly saw Alex's determined smile melt away and his gaze drift. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, embracing him tightly, acknowledging his pain.

"It's gonna be okay." I told him, well aware that Washington had always been a great stabilizer for my husband, a sort of guarantee that things would run smoothly.

"I have no idea what's going to happen anymore." He told me in a quiet voice.

"Isn't that exciting?" At that, he turned to look at me, surprised. Slowly, he smiled.

"I guess it is." We kissed, then agreed on some much-needed sleep.

* * *

Though I'd never admit it, I was sort of rooting for Jefferson in the elections, though he was vice president. Then again, I reminded myself, I did not want Thomas Jefferson in charge of my husband. I'd been through enough wars, thank you very much.

Turns out John Adams was just as bad, though. He fired Hamilton, and Jefferson was a little too smug for my taste. My husband, of course, was furious, though I did my best to console him. I agreed it was unfair, but that maybe it was for the best. I reminded him that making a difference didn't have to be through big gestures, his intricate financial system was still in place, sometimes the best way to do your part is by helping one person at a time.

"Like you did, in the war." He said, smiling faintly, "Saving redcoats..." He laughed and shook his head, "Alright then." So he went back to being a lawyer, and was of course, the best freaking lawyer the world had seen. I knew it pained him a little, though, to see others like Burr in higher positions. His political articles though, whoo, my husband knew how to draw attention all right.

We started little traditions, him and me. Little try-something-new-every-Wednesday kind of thing. I started writing what I'd always wanted to write: stories and poetry. Hamilton helped me get them some attention. We were soaring.

* * *

Then something strange.

I was looking at myself oddly in the reflection of the window. Had I gained weight?

The moment I really realized something was wrong was when I threw up all our nice dinner, which hadn't seemed suspicious with the newly seared vegetables. Hamilton was all over me, laying me down, trying to remember his medical training, but I didn't have a fever, just a lot of soreness, some dizziness, pain in my stomach.

When it didn't stop after a couple of weeks, he took me to a doctor.

"What is it?" Hamilton demanded, anxious, "A virus? Sickness? The flu?"

"None of those." Why was the doctor smiling? "It seems you're expecting child." I took a couple of second to process the words, then another couple. I suddenly felt stupid, those words didn't make sense to me.

"Come again?" I sputtered. "E-expecting?"

"A… child?" The doctor finished slowly, still smiling. Before I could even think to process that, Hamilton was kissing me.

I was gonna have a baby.

I kissed him back.

* * *

So being pregnant kind of sucked, I made sure to be very careful, knowing childbirth was a lot riskier this century. But sure enough, my belly grew. Alex was adorable, making sure I didn't walk too much, putting my feet up whenever I got a little dizzy, refusing to let me cook or go out when my belly grew more prominently. At night, his hand would fall onto my stomach without fail, when he thought I was asleep, and he wouldn't remove it unless he felt me stir.

As I was reading in the study with Alexander, I felt something, making me yelp.

"What is it?" he asked instantly, "What do you need? Water? Bread?"

"Something moved." I told him, "And it felt weird." He laughed and excitedly came over. We kept our hands on my belly for a couple of minutes and there it was again, making us jump and laugh.

"Okay, names." I said, "They have to be good."

"Alright." He agreed, "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, if it's a girl I like Mary, Diane, and Alice."

"Alice?"

"I love that name." I smiled a little, "Sounds a little like Alex, hm?"

"Yes." He agreed, smiling, "And if it's a boy?"

"I'm not sure yet. I like Elliot." He clearly didn't, "Peter?"

"I like Peter." He said slowly, "What about Jasper?"

"That's an interesting one."

The debate went on for hours, and it was beautiful.

We prepared a crib for him or her, our little baby, and everything else we needed. My leg had fully recovered by now, though when it was cold I still limped a little. I was just walking over to check the curtains when I froze.

"Alex!" I called.

"What is it?"

"Alex!" My voice was a pitch higher, "C-Call a doctor!"

"What?"

"The baby is coming! Now!"

And that she did.

Now, I had put up with the lack of microwave popcorn, the lack of decent showers, the lack of respect for women, even the lack of most medicine in this century pretty damn well.

But the lack of painkillers in childbirth? Aw, hell no.

Even so, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl we named Alice. She had beautiful, bright brown eyes and pink skin. She was a little skinny, but I knew that was nothing that couldn't be remedied. She was beautiful.

Once she was cleaned and clothed, Alex held her delicately, close to him, and I'd never seen him so careful with anything in his life. He was clearly and absolutely in love.

As was I.

* * *

Alice was raised with love, she had bouncy curls and a wide smile, long eyelashes and a sweet voice. She liked to cook with me and read with her father. Soon she was saying cute little phrases she'd pick up like, "Objection!", which made Alex and I laugh tirelessly. See, occasionally, I'd go watch her father in court with her. She liked to kiss my booboo from the gunshot, and steal her father's glasses. In fact, she was two and already she was learning to read and write. She knew a couple of rhymes we had taught her and she could say them, and we were patiently teaching her letters. She insisted to hear a story before bed every night. It seemed she would be a lot like her parents. Or, that's what we thought until she discovered some spilled ink and decided to give art a try.

Jefferson was vice-president and we hadn't spoken to him since the whole France debacle. Hamilton was still pissed. Lafayette wrote to us, congratulating us on the baby, telling us he himself had gotten married. We had Alice sign her name at the next letter we sent him, too proud to let it slide.

As the Adams administration came to a close, however, with Alice approaching her third birthday, a very controversial pair of candidates surged.

Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr.

We thought it better to stay out of it, though we had Alice giggling, "Burr!" And a clumsy, "Jeff… jeffson."

"Who do you like better?" Hamilton asked, and that made our daughters face furrow with a frown as she thought, starting to answer then catching herself. We laughed.

"Jeffson." She decided, "Thooomaas."

"If it's a matter of liking…" Hamilton muttered, making me nudge him, rolling my eyes.

But then, it was a tie.

A lot of people liked Burr, he was nice, inviting. But basically said nothing of essence. Jefferson was obviously popular in the south, though some people saw him as a bit in love with France, which I knew he was.

But I've got to say, the last thing I expected when there was a knock on the door was to open it to see none other than Thomas Jefferson.

I blinked.

"Um, come in." I said, surprised, "It's been a long time."

"I see you're back on your feet."

"That I am." I confirmed cheerfully, "It's nice to see you, if a little unexpected."

"I know." A giggle made us look to see Alice dash into the room, swiftly dodging my attempt to catch her, and stopping in front of Jefferson, looking all the way up to him with wide eyes.

"Alice." I said gently.

"I didn't realize you had a child." Jefferson said, looking down at her. They stared at each other for a long time and Alice giggled, turning back to me and pointing at him almost accusingly.

"Jeffson!" She whispered, making me smile, "Thooomaas."

"That's right." I confirmed, "That's Mister Jefferson, Alice. Do you want to say hello?" She looked between me and the candidate several times. She took a hesitant step back, then rushed up to him, gesturing wildly for him to crouch down. Jefferson gave me a long look, and I just shrugged. So he sighed and kneeled down.

"Yes?" he asked in his thick accent. She whispered something in his ear, then planted a kiss on his cheek and ran off. He stood, and while he attempted to conceal it, he was smiling a little.

"That's my daughter." I told him.

"Sweet." He noted, then turned to me, "I was hoping to speak some business while I was here."

"I imagined as much." I said with a weary sigh, "But I'm afraid Hamilton isn't here. He heard something about Burr campaigning in the streets and had to go see. Sure, he said he was going to fetch some eggs, but I'm sure he'll have conveniently forgotten them when he returns." Jefferson sneered at that.

"He'll be back soon?"

"Yes, we can wait in the sitting room."

"Sure." We sat down and Alice carefully balanced a glass of water. I pursed my lips to hide a smile as she took a gulp before holding it out to Jefferson.

"Your mother doesn't like bringing people water." Jefferson told her, reluctantly taking the cup. I laughed.

"She likes you more than she likes me." I told him, "Alice, I've never gotten a glass of water."

"You can share." She said, holding out her hands to take the glass back, and then she teetered over to me.

"Okay, sweetheart, the adults have to talk business." I told her, "Why don't you go finish that story?"

"I already did."

"She's her father's daughter." Jefferson muttered.

"Well, go start a new one."

"I wanna listen."

"Alice…"

"I'll be super quiet!" She climbed onto a chair and sat, observing and covering her mouth with both hands. I let her stay.

"I'm guessing this is about the election." I told him, "The stalemate?"

"Yes, actually." Jefferson agreed, "It's been the cause of one migraine too many."

"I can imagine."

"I have to say, I could have sworn Hamilton would campaign."

"Oh, he considered it." I told him, "But then… some things became more important." We both looked at my quiet daughter. "I was surprised to hear Burr was so high in the food chain."

"I know." Thomas said, "Bottom feeder."

"I wouldn't go so far." I disagreed, "It's just I feel he lacks purpose, you know? Men who want power want to do something with it, use it to fulfill their purpose. But if his purpose is to possess the power, then all he'll use it for is to keep it." Jefferson's eyes began to shine with a sinister sort of idea.

"Am I to believe I have your vote?"

"Seeing as women aren't allowed to vote yet." I said pointedly, "I don't get a vote. If I did… well, Jefferson, you know I don't like discussing politics."

"Humor me."

"…I might lean in your direction." I admitted, "And don't tell Alex I told you this, but while he really hates you, and likes Burr, he agrees with you more than he does Burr."

"That's good to hear, which brings me to my request."

"Your request?"

"I need The Hamiltons on my side." He told me, "Your writing just might be enough to sway public opinion in my favor."

"Oh." I said, "Oh, no…"

"I understand you don't like to get your nose in these matters, but…"

"Jefferson." I complained, "How can you just spring this on me?"

"I doubt Hamilton would do me the favor." He said, "But if you did… under a pseudonym, or just sign Hamilton…"

"I can't speak for my husband."

"Then as yourself, women admire you, they might change their husbands minds."

"You place a lot of faith in my writing."

"Take it as a compliment."

"I do." I told him, "But you know I'm weary about openly discussing politics, it tends to get ugly."

"It doesn't have to." he said, "Just say what you told me. That thing about power?"

"…you can quote me on it." I accepted slowly, "But I'm sorry, I won't publish a paper myself. I've learned to stay out of the crossfire." He gave a dry laugh.

"Fair enough." he said, "I will quote you, though."

"I'd expect nothing less."

"Tell Hamilton, he might listen to you." Jefferson said, standing, "And... thank you."

"Hamilton may not like you, but you've got his girls on your side." I informed him playfully, smiling at Alice's star-struck gaze as her wide eyes stayed planted on Jefferson's every move. I thought of something, "Hey, Alice, what did you whisper in Thomas's ear?" She giggled.

"A secret." I turned to Jefferson, confused, but he only smiled and shrugged.

"She said it." He said. "Well, I'll be going. I'll see you later, Constance." He looked at my daughter, "…Alice." She gave a little wave and he left.


	13. Second

**Good evening, loyal readers. This is a pretty short one. I'm sure you have an idea of what's coming. And this time, I've got a little control who lives, who dies, I am telling the story. Still, keep in mind that's it's not over yet. I'd like to know what you think, and what's coming soon (a couple of chapters from now), is what compels me to this story the most. You'll see. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

Hamilton arrived home not too long after.

"I may have forgotten the eggs but you'll never guess who I ran into…"

"Daddy!" Alice said, and he took her into his arms, "Jeffson wants your help."

I sighed.

"Our daughter is too smart for her own good." I told him, "And yes, Jefferson stopped by."

"Here?"

"Yes, he wants us on his side, wants you to write something to sway things in his favor."

"What?"

"He also asked me, but I refused. I don't like getting involved in that kind of stuff. He didn't seem confident you'd do anything, but he did come all this way." I kissed him hello, "You know, if you do write something, promise me you'll be delicate."

"When have you known me not to be?"

"This is it." I groaned.

"Daddy's going to be bad." Alice giggled.

"Yeah, he is." I agreed, "Please, be careful."

"Well, I'll write what I think."

And boy, did he.

Jefferson released a statement, first, where he quoted me and it was such a good speech that votes instantly began to lean in his favor. If that weren't enough, hamilton published his opinion.

Saying little good things about Jefferson, more like he was the less of two evils. The worse evil being burr, who seemed to have no beliefs. Basically, a more extreme version of my comment.

And this was why I hated politics.

And of course, Jefferson won.

He sent a fruit basket.

* * *

One night, after putting a restless Alice back to sleep, I stopped by the study to see a letter from Aaron Burr on Hamilton's desk. I read it. He was pissed, basically, blamed Hamilton.

He'd challenged him to a duel tomorrow at dawn.

From the way things were on his desk, I knew he'd responded. And from the way I knew my husband, I knew he'd said yes.

I instantly went over to Mrs. Hughes and told her to look after Alice tomorrow.

"Where have you been?" Alex asked as I got into bed at last. "I have a favor to ask."

"Oh?"

"You know how duels work, don't you?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well…"

"You are not dueling."

"Constance…"

"It's ridiculous." i told him, "Two people can't settle an argument through words so they use guns? You know I hate guns."

"I know." he said gently, "But you're the best negotiator I know."

"Negotiator?" I blinked, "You want me to be your second, to play a part in this?"

"Hey, you could stop it before it even begins."

"But if I don't…"

"Then I'll shoot into the air." he told me, "I'm not going to kill him."

"Burr?"

"Yes."

"I don't like it."

"I know you don't."

"I already have Mrs. Hughes looking after Alice tomorrow."

"Okay, then."

"You're not dying tomorrow."

"No, I'm not."

"Good."

* * *

Early the next day, we stood, dressed and went over to New Jersey, where Burr awaited with his own second. He sneered when he saw me.

"Of course."

"Hey, Burr." I said gently. After Alex and Burr failed to reach an agreement, I spoke to his second, a man I didn't know very well.

"This is silly." I told the man, "No one should die because of a disagreement."

"Yet many men do." The man said, "Hamilton has been in many duels."

"But no one has died in them." I told him, "Burr is insulted by what Hamilton wrote, but he's always been straightforward with his opinions, and we have no guarantee that's the reason he lost."

"Burr is ready to let this go if Hamilton apologizes." But I knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Burr has been unkind to Hamilton too at several times." I told him, "and he's let it slide. He's still vice-president and he can run again."

"Hamilton destroyed the people's trust in him."

"What if…"

"I think that's enough."

"That is nowhere near enough!" I protested, "These talks will take as long as they need to!" But he walked away from me, shaking his head at Burr, who prepared his pistol. I walked over to Burr.

"Please." I said quickly, "Don't shoot. Hamilton, he'll shoot into the air, you should do the same…" His second pulled me back as I began to cry, "Don't kill my husband, Burr, he has a daughter, like you do. No one has to die today… Burr!"

He didn't look at me.

I pushed the man off as we stood and they began to count. At the last second, Hamilton pointed at the sky and Burr… forward.

I lunged.

I fell.

For a moment, I was wasn't sure if I'd been hit or not. For a moment, all I registered was how pretty dawn looked from this angle.

The next second, the doctor and Hamilton were over me, so I took that as a bad sign.

"What the hell was that?" Burr's second roared, while Burr himself stayed still and quiet. He'd seen it. He'd seen Hamilton point at the sky.

The ground felt dirty.

My shoulder was bandaged tightly and I cried out in pain. Alex held my hand tightly, whispering words of comfort.

I was rowed back to New York.

Hospital. Treatment. It was all a blur. Soon, I lay on a bed. I hadn't lost much blood and I was stitched up. I should be fine. I felt weak, though, shocked.

Alice came to visit and she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

The doctor told me that from the angle of the bullet, it would have killed Alex.

I regretted nothing.

"Mommy's a hero!"

"Thanks, sweetie. I'll be home soon."

As I spoke to Alex later, however, my breathing became labored. I began to sweat cold.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked.

"I don't… I… I can't…" I wheezed, and Alex's cold hand told me I had a fever.

"The wound was infected." The doctor said quickly, "It's been days, who knows how much it's spread…"

"Dammit." I wheezed, sick, as Alex held me tightly.

"You're going to be fine." he said quickly, "Sometimes, people recover. You have a daughter to go home to, a husband to…" His voice cracked.

"I know." I mumbled weakly.

* * *

"Well, if isn't Sammy." I opened my eyes in confusion to see the last person I expected.

"What?" I breathed, unable to believe my eyes. I set my jaw, "My name is Constance." The man blinked at me.

"Okay." he accepted.

"Who are you?" Hamilton demanded.

"The Doctor." He said simply, "I'm here to help."

"Can you save her, doctor?"

"Yes." He confirmed, "But not here."

"No." I said instantly, "I want to stay."

"What do you mean?"

"I have to take her somewhere else, where the treatment is better."

"But you're sure you can save her?"

"Yes."

"Then take her."

"Alex!" I protested, taking his hand.

"You'll be fine." He told me, "If this man can save you, then he's going to save you." Without the energy to protest, I was taken into this man's arms and carried away, far away, to a place I hadn't been in a long, long time... I just, I felt so weak... Cringing away from the lights and sounds and rough movement, I let the sick cloud envelop my mind and let everything else fade away...


	14. Letter

**Good evening. You've seen it. Jefferson and Alice. If you haven't fallen in love already, just you** **wait. Now the whole time-travel thing I like to stay away from, for the most part, so that'll be swift and painless, I promise. It's what comes next that makes this chapter important to me. Tell me what you think about the peculiar pair that is the third president and a three year old.**

 **Next, I've been working on something new, a different story, involving Lafayette, and I'm wondering if anyone would be interested in that story. Considering publishing it.**

 **Anyway, I'll let you get to the story. Enjoy!  
**

 **~The Cursed One**

I woke up in a hospital bed.

A modern hospital.

I sat upright, startled, and a nurse had to tell me to calm down. She started talking slowly, asking me my name and how I'd been injured.

"C-Constance." I stammered, disoriented, "I-I need… I... " I was having a panic attack, I realized as I hyperventilated.

"I'll take it from here." The Doctor said, waiting until the nurse left to put a hand on my good shoulder, waiting until I caught my breath.

I slapped him.

"Good to see you too."

"You left me stranded." I spat, "And you…" I was dizzy, he made me lie back down.

"You're still ill."

"Take me back." I whispered.

"What?" He asked, "I thought you were angry about being in that era." I angrily stuck my hand up at him, showing him the ring, the beautifully inscribed ring that Alex had gotten me with what little money he had. That ring.

"I'm married, I have a child." I informed him furiously, "Take me back!"

"Oh, dear."

"I love my family, I love my life, I need to go back…"

"What about you family here?"

"They already think I'm dead, thanks to you. And…" I gave a small gasp, "Oh, my family's dead." Right here, right now, they were all... My baby Alice, my precious Alex, my friends, Jefferson... I started crying. "Take me back, doctor, take me back."

"I can't, for the same reason I was unable to come sooner. Those years are too… important. The TARDIS has difficulty approaching them, when I read that you died, I just…"

"I'd rather die!" I cried, "Take me back! Right now! You get that stupid machine of yours working and take me back! They're waiting for me. My husband's all alone with my daughter and I can't… I can't leave them. This is worse than dying!"

"If you would let me help you…"

"You have! Now take me back!" He paused, clearly indecisive.

"We have a window." he admitted at last, "But it closes tonight, and you're not completely better."

"I don't care."

"You might die."

"I don't care."

"You've already made history."

"It's not about making history, Doctor." It was never about that, not from the moment I signed up for the war. "Frankly, I know them a lot better than I know you. So get me home." With a small groan, he sneaked me out of the hospital, to his box.

"This is extremely dangerous." He told me, "You may die. Now, if you want to get better, even in those conditions, take that green medicine on the dashboard. It won't taste good, and the side effects…" I swallowed them without hesitation. "Okay, then. Your chances went from one percent to ten. Congratulations. Now hold on."

The TARDIS shuddered in protest as the Doctor tried to get me close.

"I can't get any closer!" I ran to the door and opened it to see a Virginian shore, the same one I'd come back to France to.

"A little closer!" I yelled and ship shuddered, dipping a little, but bouncing away from the land. The ocean was only a couple of feet below me…

I felt faint.

Good thing I planned on jumping because my body fell forward.

* * *

The freezing cold water definitely woke me up. I swam to shore, shivering, knowing this could not be good for my condition. I approached a carriage.

"C-Can you take me to Monticello?" I requested.

"You're wet." The man complained, "And isn't that the president's home?"

"Um…"

"You have any money?" Not on me. "Get lost!"

But I was cold, wet, and in desperate need of help. I began walking the way, managing to convince a kind woman in a carriage to give me a ride closer to my destination.

I arrived at Monticello, coughing and still dripping wet. The guards didn't want to let me in but I told them to tell Thomas it was Constance.

I was allowed in.

Jefferson opened the door himself, eyebrows shooting up when he saw me.

"Help me." I said hoarsely, then everything went dark.

* * *

"At least you know how to make an entrance." I winced at my headache and opened my eyes. Jefferson stood at the door of the room where I lay, looking at me with a hint of resignation.

"I…" A coughing fit kept me from talking.

"Do I want to know why you were soaked?" He asked, "And clearly, you're sick." He was silent a couple of beats, "I heard rumors that Burr shot you."

"I got in the way." I told him, sitting dizzily, "There was a… duel."

"You realize you're not supposed to do that."

"My husband's alive, so I don't care." He gave a big sigh at that.

"Ah, yes. Hamilton. Who, once again, seems to have misplaced you." He rubbed his temples, "I've already written a letter."

"Just put me on a carriage…" I stood, but nausea hit me and Jefferson gave me a gentle push back into bed as I breathed unsteadily.

"You're in no condition to be moving." He told me, "You'll stay in Monticello until you recover. I have no doubt Hamilton will try and storm the place, so I'll have some fun with it. I don't usually host people." I could already imagine the guards, under Jefferson's orders, refusing to let my husband in as the president watched his increasing frustration with increasing amusement.

"I know, I'm sorry…"

"Well as long as you don't die." He said with distaste, "I can live with it." He sighed again and gave a small laugh, "You realize I'm the president of the United States."

"…yes?"

"I'm busy." He told me, "So I'll be going, but…" He had to show his obvious reluctance before finishing this sentence, "You're welcome to stay, I suppose. Keep that child away from anything sharp."

"Oh, Alice wouldn't…"

"I wasn't talking about Alice." I laughed, then coughed again and the nurse came to me, looking over my wounds and giving me something to drink.

* * *

"Where is she?" Uh-oh. A crash and an oomph later, the door slammed open and Hamilton was embracing me tightly. Words couldn't describe how relieved I was to be in his arms, smell him, feel him, see his shining eyes. I felt so at home.

"Hey there." I offered weakly.

"He was supposed to cure you." He took my temperature, warm hand laying on my forehead as I smiled up at him.

"I'm better." I told him, "I'll be fine, I just have to finish getting better."

"You can't be moved." He said worriedly, "The cold air… your wounds…"

"Jefferson said I could stay as long as I needed."

"Okay, good, if nothing else, I know he hires good doctors…" If nothing else. I pursed my lips to stop a grin. Good to know my dear Hamilton hadn't changed.

"I want to kiss you." I whispered, stopping him when he tried, "But I'm not letting you get sick." He kissed my cheek instead, then sat beside the bed and began to talk, a mile a minute, just what I needed to hear, actually. My husband ranting. It was music to my ears.

* * *

Meanwhile…

The patter of Alice's footsteps could be heard as she explored the huge place, fascinated. She was lost, her dad had run way ahead of her when he heard about her mom being here.

...

Jefferson twisted his wrists, cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Damn, he was busy…

When he looked up to stretch his neck, he blinked at what was in front of his desk.

Alice blinked back.

"Of course." He scoffed quietly, then raised his voice a little, "You lost, Alice?" She took a step back to get a better look of him and looked behind her, like she was expecting her mother. She looked back at Jefferson and gave a little wave.

"Hi, Thomas."

"Hey, Alice." He said dryly, "If you ask one of the… what are you doing?" She dashed around the desk and climbed onto his lap, standing and looking down at the letters he was writing. "Don't touch that, it's important…" But she suddenly pointed at one he'd put to the side.

"Story."

"That's nothing for…"

"Letters!" She said cheerfully, "Daddy doesn't let me write letters."

"That so?" He asked, resigned, half glad to have a break. He leaned back in his chair. "I think you're a too young to be writing letters."

"Nu-uh!" She reached forward to a blank piece of parchment and grabbed the big quill in her hand, "To daddy." Jefferson took advantage of the distraction to lean back his head and close his eyes, until it occurred to him that he didn't want the kid ruining his other letters with splotches. When he opened his eyes, he blinked, surprised.

"You can write?" The girl had written 'Dear Alexander," already and was reaching to dip the quill. "Careful." Of course their kid could write already. He helped her, giving her the words she didn't know and correcting her spelling and grammar when necessary. When she'd finished writing, she decorated the parchment with floral doodles, then Thomas folded it and gave her an envelope, which she addressed to her dad.

"I did it!"

"Yep." But she seemed ecstatic, bouncing and grinning from ear to ear, "Jeffson, I wrote a letter."

"You sure did." She started ranting unintelligibly, excited.

"Mommy! I…" Her smile faded, and she started to sniffle.

"Aw, no…"

"Is m-mommy going to…" Jefferson snapped into action she tears began rolling down her cheeks.

"Hey." He said, "There's no need to cry, she's right…" But it was too late. With a big sigh, he stood, carrying her with one arm, "Your mother is right down the hall." Alice gave a teary nod. "She's still sick, though, so you're gonna have to be strong for her. Can you do that, Alice?" She nodded quickly, wiping her face with her hands, then burying her face in his chest when some people approached him to ask him what was wrong and he waved them off.

When they stood at the door, he moved to let her down but she clung to him.

"I wanna go in with you."

"I'm busy." She sniffled and said nothing, so with a reluctant look at the kid and at the door, he pushed it open.

Inside, Alexander sat, holding Constance's hand tightly.

* * *

Alex was just whispering words of comfort when the door opened again, and I saw the last thing I expected.

Jefferson stood with a resigned expression, half holding my daughter as she clung to him tightly.

"You lost something?" Alice saw me and all but jumped off of Jefferson, climbing onto her father's lap, then onto my bed, hugging me tightly as she let some tears slip and furiously wiped them away. I hugged her back, and soon she'd fallen asleep in my arms.

Jefferson turned away wordlessly.

"Thomas." I'd rarely called him by his first name, so he turned with a raised eyebrow, "What would you say to being Alice's godfather?"

"Whaaaaaat?" Jefferson wasn't the only surprised one, Hamilton shot me a confused look.

"She adores you." I told him, "And if anything were to happen to Alex and me… we both had close calls recently, and I wouldn't want her to end up alone or with some stranger…" I turned to Alex, "Don't you agree?"

"Well…"

"Absolutely not." Jefferson said.

"Think about it." I urged. "You never know." He scoffed.

"Yeah. I'll see you later, Constance." With that, he left. I turned to Alex to better explain myself.

"When he came to the house during the elections," I explained, "He really hit it off with Alice. He found her brought her here… I can tell she's been crying, probably because she was lost, he must have comforted her…"

"We're not going to die." He told me. Somehow, Alex always saw right through me, and now I was the one holding back tears, squeezing his hand and hugging Alice closer.

"We don't know that." I whispered, "I'm still sick and you're so reckless…"

"You're one to talk."

"I know you hate him." I said, "I'm just saying, Alice doesn't." Speaking of, she stirred, yawning and sitting up. Hamilton put a hand on her back before she could tip off the bed.

"Mommy." She said, looking at me, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sweetie." She took something she had in her dress pocket, holding it to me as she gave a suspicious look at he rather before whispering,

"I wrote a letter."

"You did?" I asked, surprised. She turned around and held out the envelope to Hamilton, who blinked, surprised.

"What's this? He asked.

"I wrote you a letter, daddy." She said, "Read it, read it." He took his hesitantly and delicately opened it, reading and smiling. I insisted I wanted to see and took it from him, reading while he turned back to Alice, bewildered.

"That was incredible!" She blushed, clearly pleased. She took her father's praise very highly. "When did you write that?"

"Right now." She told him, "With Jeffson." Hamilton and I shared a look. I was amused, he was resigned.

"Jefferson?"

"He helped me."

"Really?"

"He let me write at his desk." She said proudly. "Daddy, will you let me write at your desk?"

"Yes, sweetheart." The resignation was loud and clear in his voice now, but so was the pride as he held the letter our daughter had written for him like a valuable jewel, irreplaceable, which, I guessed, it was, wasn't it.

* * *

"You have a visitor." I sat up, yawning, turning to see Hamilton and Alice deeply asleep in the other bed in the room. A smile brushed my lips as I saw them curled up against each other. Then I remembered I was being talked to and turned back to the guard.

"Really?" I asked, wondering if maybe Laurens was in the area. "Um, sure. I'm up."

My blood ran cold when the man stepped inside quietly.

He blinked when our eyes met and I could immediately tell he hadn't planned on being seen.

"What… what are you doing here?" I whispered. For a couple of seconds, he said nothing, staring at my husband instead. His gaze shifted to the floor and he said nothing.

"Constance?" Hamilton stirred and opened his eyes, instantly straightening and holding Alice protectively. His voice came out ice cold, "Burr, why are you here?"

"I just wanted to make sure she survived."

"Conscience weighing on you?"

"Enough." I said gently, "I'll be fine, Burr."

"Alright." He turned to leave.

"Hey, Burr!"

"Yes?"

"Don't you ever come close to my wife again."

"You know," He sounded slightly annoyed, "Our duel did get interrupted." I saw Hamilton's eyes harden.

"I have a family to look after Burr. I suggest you do the same." He was a quiet a moment before leaving. I looked at Hamilton, my eyes full of tears, and he was instantly fumbling. "Are you in pain? Afraid? I won't let him hurt you… I can call the nurse if your shoulder his bothering you… or is it your leg?"

"You said no." I said in a shaky voice, "He wanted you to duel again and you…" I was crying now, "Alex, I love you so much." He blinked and gave a slight smile, leaving Alice and sitting beside me, wrapping an arm around me tightly.

"Of course I did." he said softly, "To him? I have nothing to prove."

"We shouldn't be angry." I whispered, "I know he's sorry."

"He should be!"

"I know."


	15. Thunder with no Lightning

**I'm a little late today, but here I am. These daily updates may be pretty awesome, but I am going to be computer-free next week so don't expect them then. I really like the story I'm working on with Lafayette, though, so there is more coming, I'm seriously considering publishing it. For now, though, just sit back, relax, and let me blow us all away.**

 **~The Cursed One**

Weeks passed and my health improved at a painstaking pace. Once the doctors told me I was well enough to travel, I stood and walked with my family to Jefferson's office. Alice ran up to him and hugged his legs while Hamilton leaned at the doorway grudgingly.

"Thank you for everything." I told him, "I might have died if it weren't for you. I'm grateful."

"Yeah, well…" He glanced down at Alice for a moment before looking up at me, "You're fine now."

"Mostly." I agreed. Apparently, I had to be careful still with what I ate and how much I exposed myself to the cold. My lungs had taken a toll. And my shoulder still hurt, but clearly, I would survive.

"I'm…" I knew Hamilton was really biting back his pride here, "Mr. President, you've been very generous."

"Oh?" Jefferson's smug tone and look didn't help.

"…Thank you." Hamilton's voice rang with sincerity.

"No." Jefferson gestured to his grand office and presidential perks, "Thank you, Hamilton."

"You're coming over for dinner the next time you're in New York." I informed him, not even asking. "At our home."

"I suppose I don't have a choice in the matter."

"Bye Jeffson!" Alice said cheerfully, kissing his knee before running into my arms, waving happily as we left.

* * *

Hamilton was groaning when we got on the carriage.

"Your pride need a minute?"

"She really does like him." He grumbled.

"He's not that bad." I reasoned.

"Oh, no, now I owe him, and the man will never let me forget it, I can assure you." He seemed to be almost in pain, "Only man I hate more is Burr."

"Hey." I reprimanded gently, "Hating will only burn you out. I try to reconcile with everyone I fight with. Makes me a happier person."

"Which is why you're a much better person than I." Alex's voice held fondness, "Because I will never forgive him." There he was, being head-strong again, yet his eyes were full of caring. Our daughter was curled up between us and I thought back to that terrible hospital for a moment, smiling slightly.

"I'm home." I whispered, leaning against him.

* * *

A week after our arrival, things were pretty good. At night, my breathing would get a little raspy but I kept drinking my hot water with honey and lemon and it helped me feel better. Alice was drawing and writing with exponential quality. I liked to watch her sit in Alex's lap as they spent time together. I taught her what little piano I knew and she was a natural.

Although… there was nightmares.

I can't explain them, nor their cause, maybe all I'd been through. But gunfire and blood were a common theme, or losing my family. Alex was worried, even after I assured him I was fine. He was on a role with his law-practicing. He wrote against slavery too, his fire was long from doused. Occasionally, I'd lend on a hand on the tricky ones, not that he needed it, but he did enjoy my input.

When Jefferson was finally in town, I made sure to schedule dinner.

"Where are you going?" I asked Alex as he put on his coat and prepared to leave, "Jefferson will be here in an hour."

"I'll be right back." he promised, "I'm meeting with a client."

"At this hour?"

"I'll be back." He promised, "Keep inside, it might rain. And remember Alice is afraid of the lightning."

"I know." I said, frowning, "Can't you meet with your client tomorrow?"

"No, but I promise I'll be back before dinner."

"But…" he kissed me on the forehead.

"See you soon. I'll be twenty minutes, at the most."

The minutes ticked by and he didn't arrive. At twenty, I went out to look for him, knowing Alice would be safe inside her room.

* * *

After asking around, I found he'd been going to the Burr house. Oh, no. Why? He'd said something about forgiveness, about my peace of mind. Was this about the nightmares? About how I told him leaving grudges behind made me happier? Was he going to go talk? But why was he taking so long?

BAM!

I heard it, even though I was still far away. And as the rain began to fall, and the darkness envelop me, I ran.

Burr stood at the entrance to his home, gun still raised, hand shaking.

My husband lay motionless on the ground before him.

Mind a blunder, I scrambled forward, falling roughly to my knees by his side. He was bleeding, oh god, there was so much blood…

"Alex? Alex?" My voice was high with hysteria. "Alex!" He smiled faintly, grasping my hand. His eyes still held their fire, even now.

"You look beautiful."

"Hold on, hold on… HELP!" I screamed, "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" I was crying now, ignoring as the rain soaked me to the bone.

"I have so much left to say…"

"I know, I know…"

"You need to get out of the rain." He grimaced in pain, "I told you… I told you to stay inside."

"You said twenty minutes."

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, no, no, no." I covered his wound, apologizing at his sounds of pain, but I knew it was useless. I'd seen men this injured in the battlefield. They'd never survived. Not one. I internally cursed my knowledge of this fact, because it made it that much harder to pretend everything was going to be okay. As I panicked, he put his hand behind my head and kissed me like he'd never kissed me before. His hand slipped down and his eyes fluttered closed as he wheezed painfully. I hugged him tightly, crying.

"Constance?" The voice was muffled by the rain but the Southern accent was unmistakable, "The hell are you doing out here?" Jefferson held a bright umbrella over his head as he walked over, "You're… oh." He quieted when he saw Alex sprawled on the ground, my dress stained with his blood, "Constance, you have to move."

"No, no…" But my breathing was getting labored, raspy. "I… I can't."

"You'll die out here."

"He's not… he's still…" I could feel his chest rise and fall still, if only a little. His face was tight with pain. I ran my fingers through his hair, whispering words of comfort in his ear. I wouldn't let him be alone. I… I couldn't.

His lips twitched to a smile for a moment.

Then he exhaled and didn't inhale again.

I cried out, sobbing and hugging him as I coughed and struggled to breathe.

"Get out of the damn rain." Jefferson said angrily, "He's dead, Constance. Get up." When I refused, he gave an annoyed sigh, tossing his umbrella aside and dragging me to my feet, holding me tightly as I shook and cried and tried to return to my fallen husband. To my best friend. My love.

Burr dropped the gun.

I didn't hesitate.

Pulling out of Jefferson's grip, stalked forward, breathing in with much effort.

"You killed him." I said, "He was coming to forgive you and you killed him!" I hit his chest furiously and cried until Jefferson pulled me back and I had to gasp for breath.

"That's enough!" Jefferson yelled, "Come on!" He dragged me into his carriage and I sat soaked, gasping for air that didn't come as I shivered and my shoulder burned.

"Hold on." Jefferson said as the carriage began to move, "Calm down, Constance. You have to breathe."

But I couldn't, I couldn't…

"You gonna leave your little girl all alone?" Alice… oh, Alice…

I managed to slow my gasps and wheeze in some air.

Just her and me… I could do that, I could do that… except it was without Alex. I couldn't… I couldn't…

Then it was like my lungs collapsed completely, or at least refused to fill with air.

As I gasped, Jefferson cursed, pulling me to him so I sat straight, leaning against him.

"Breathe. Damn, Constance, you gotta breathe, doll."

But I couldn't. And the darkness seemed to penetrate the carriage, enter me, take me away…

Take me to Alex.

* * *

She slumped against him and didn't move again. Jefferson cursed louder, hitting the seat before turning her around, eyes shooting to the leg he'd fixed for her. But he couldn't fix this.

Maybe she hadn't wanted to be fixed.

That was what had really killed her.

He lay her carefully down and made the necessary arrangements for both her body and Hamilton's. Burr claimed to be acting in self-defense, afraid Hamilton had come to kill him after he injured his wife.

Thomas was grim, more grief-stricken than he'd like to admit, but he did what he had to do calmly.

"That idiot." He breathed as he made sure their bodies were taken away respectfully, "I can't say I'm surprised he died like this. Couldn't keep his mouth shut." His words were unkind but soft. He thought to when the Hamilton's had asked for his help. How sure he'd been that they would make it.

A thought struck him like a bullet through the heart.

"Take me to the Hamilton's estate."

* * *

He walked in slowly, the house felt haunting with its owners dead. The rain continued to pour down upon the seemingly endless black night. He told his men to wait in the foyer as he stepped forward tentatively. He walked confidently into the sitting room, then the kitchen, then Hamilton's mess of a study. His eyes lay on the unfinished letter on his desk before he sighed and headed upstairs. After a small hesitation, he checked the master bedroom. Empty. Though no one may have been able to tell from his outward demeanor, which radiated confidence and a business-like posture, Jefferson's heart skipped a beat when he checked the last room, her bedroom, and found it empty as well.

"Alice?" He tried, turning back into the hallway.

He heard a sniffle and turned back to the colorful room. Walking slowly, he approached the bed and with a sigh, crouched down, finding a trembling figure beneath it.

"There you are." The small child looked at him, big brown eyes shining as she shivered and pouted, clearly afraid. For a moment, when he locked eyes with her, he was overrun with pity. A couple of hours ago, she'd had a family.

Now she had none.

"Why are you down here?" he asked her. She couldn't possibly know.

"It's scary." her voice was shaky. What? The rain?

"Well being under a bed doesn't make any difference." He informed her dryly, "Come on."

"Dinner." She remembered, "Mommy made dinner. She'll be back, she went to get daddy."

"She leave you all alone here?" Alice hesitated, then nodded.

"Jeffson, you're wet." She realized, slowly crawling out, pushing her unruly hair out of her face.

"Well…" A flash of lightning made Alice freeze on the spot, eyes widening. At the crack of thunder, the small girl hugged him tightly, burying her face against his chest in fear. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Jefferson blinked, hesitantly placing a hand on her little back. With a sigh, he sat fully on the ground, leaning his back against the wall as she clung to him in fright.

"It's just lightning." he told her. "Bright and noisy, but mostly harmless." Like Hamilton, he thought, most of the time. Alice sniffled, and he knew she was intelligent enough to think up a reasonable answer. Yet seeing her like this, he was reminded that she was just a small, frightened child. An orphan.

"Daddy said that." She said, "B-but… before…" She still struggled a little to express herself, "No lightning." She said, "No echo, just really loud. I don't like it." Her eyes filled with tears again, "Jeffson, I don't like it." Jefferson felt cold. No lightning, no echo. The crack of a gunshot. Had this girl heard the death of her father?

"There's a lot of things we don't like." He told her, "That doesn't mean they stop existing."

He sat with her for another while, holding her as she cringed and cried at every flash and rumble, unable to fathom the pity he felt for the trembling child in his lap. She was all alone now. Her father shot, her mother dropped dead from her bad lungs. And this child, who had been so loved, so nurtured. What would become of her now?

 _"What would you say to being her godfather?"_

Jefferson clenched his jaw as he stared into the night, thinking back to the woman's last moments in his arms, how she refused to leave her husband's side.

 _"Absolutely not."_

That's what he'd said. Absolutely not. Him? The president of the United States, make such a promise to the wife of his enemy? To burden himself with a child that he'd surely ask his slaves to look after? There had to be someone else.

But who did two immigrant orphans have but each other?

Thomas thought of some of their friends. Lafayette was much too far away. Mulligan was not the kind of man to look after a child. Laurens was closer, had the personality… but he was still fighting. Was that right for the child? What if he escorted her to France personally? Yes, it would take from his time, but he'd always like an excuse to visit France, the child might like the trip, might not have the same fear of water as her mother. Lafayette would certainly take the little girl in, she would learn French…

Flash!

Alice hugged him more tightly and Thomas frowned.

France was too dangerous right now for her.

"I suppose I have no choice." He muttered, then, with a grunt, got to his feet, carrying Alice with one arm. He walked through the empty house, the shell of what had been a happy life, and to the foyer. Alice held him more tightly when she saw all the men awaiting them.

"Sir?" One of his men held out his arms, making Alice cling to him more tightly.

"It's fine." He said dryly. "I'll be back here tomorrow to organize his correspondence." That sounded exhausting but who else would do it? "Take me to the Presidential mansion for now. I want to get a couple of hours of sleep before the funeral." He glanced at the girl when he said this, knowing she wouldn't understand. Not yet. He'd get someone else to tell her.

He stepped outside, umbrella over his head and walked to the carriage, settling inside. Alice refused to move off his lap, seeming confused.

"Where are we going?"

"My house."

"Mon… Monticello?" She hesitated with the word.

"No, a different house."

"But…" She looked out the window, unsure, "I wanna wait for mommy and daddy."

"Your mother asked me to do this." That was all too true.

"…okay."

They headed over to the presidential mansion and Jefferson got ready to sleep, leaving Alice with a maid in a comfortable room.

He collapsed for a couple of hours.


	16. Time to say Goodbye

**I realize I may or may not have shattered a couple of souls last chapter (don't worry, mine was the first to go), but I think you'll find in the pain, in the quiet... a lot of beautiful things come to light. After this chapter, my updates will come more far apart, I might publish one more chapter this week, then I'm gone next week, and I'll publish again the following one. Believe it or not, it's not over yet. The cover make sense yet? People say they're a fan of my writing style (thank you!), so would you read another fic I've got up my sleeve?**

 **If I haven't said it before, Hamilton belongs to Lin Manuel Miranda, the musical-writing, song-composing, hamilton-acting genius. Constance and Alice, however, are mine. Anyway, enjoy!  
** **~The Cursed One** **  
**

The funeral was early. As he pulled on some black clothes, he made sure his servants had fetched Alice a black dress. He half hoped she'd figure it out herself as he descended into the sitting room, finding Alice there already, with a maid persuading her to put on some black shoes. The two girls looked at him as he entered the room.

"I don't wanna wear the shoes." Alice said. "They make my feet hurt."

"You want to walk barefoot?" He asked, "Your feet will hurt more when you cut them against the ground. I'll buy you new shoes later." Alice pouted for a long time, but didn't protest when the maid tried again.

"Where's daddy? And mommy?" Thomas didn't answer, only stared out the window at the morning light. Light at last. "Jeffson." Alice waddled over and pulled at his pants.

"They're not here."

"Will we see them?"

"No."

"Why not?" He'd told mothers that their sons had died, he'd wives their husbands had been killed…

But a small girl that both her parents were dead?

"They're gone."

"When will they be back?"

"They're not coming back, Alice." She blinked at him, confused.

"Where did they go?" That was a damn good question. This was dragging out, making it more painful. Alice's voice began to become upset. "Jeffson, I wanna see mommy."

"I told you, she…" He kept his eyes firmly on the tree in the middle of the garden. "Alice… your parents are…"

"Mr. Jefferson, the carriage is ready."

Wordlessly, he had Alice walk into front of him and climb into the carriage, unable to have the heart to break her expectations as she waited eagerly to go see her parents.

* * *

They arrived and everyone was quiet, a sea of black like last night. They were to be buried side by side. Open casket. Oh no.

Alice got away from him before he could think of a more sensible way to do this.

So he watched.

He watched as the girl navigated between legs and reached the casket. He watched as she strained her neck curiously, then looked for her parents. Unable to see them, he watched her climb onto a chair and stand up on her tip-toes, chin in the air as she tried to find a familiar face.

He saw her eyes land on the coffins.

He saw them widen.

For a moment, he saw confusion. And he saw her stop herself from running to them, waiting. Waiting for what? For them to move? She waited and waited and she began to tremble. Deciding that avoiding a scene would be a good thing right about now, Jefferson made his way to her but too late.

She began to bawl.

Dozens of eyes fell upon her with varying looks of pity and annoyance.

When he tried to grab her to take her away, she ducked and climbed off the chair, running to the caskets, jumping, trying to reach the edge.

"Mommy, mommy…" She ran to the other one, "Daddy? D-daddy…"

"You can't touch those." The priest said sternly, "Move along." Alice ignored the request and kept trying, despite it being fruitless. "Young lady, these two are dead, have some respect." When he tried to move her, she let out a shriek and fell to her knees, sobbing.

"I'd suggest you have some respect." Thomas said coolly, "That's their daughter." The priest backed off.

"I apologize, mister president…"

"Mh-hmm." He looked down at the girl, then up to her cold, motionless parents. "You two are selfish, you know that?" He said, "For god's sake, get some rest. I'll deal with the mess you left behind." With a small nod to them, he sighed and picked up the girl, ignoring how she thrashed and scratched him, pushing his cheek away from her angrily. He didn't leave yet though. He waited a moment until she'd stopped. "Time to say goodbye."

She cried at the words and shook her head.

"Alice." he said firmly, "You need to say goodbye to your mother and father. Don't you think they'd like that?" That made her cry harder. "Remember what I told you once? You have to be strong for them. Can you do that, Alice? You did it once, can you do it again?" She gave a hesitant nod, furiously wiping away her tears, which refused to stop falling. After a couple of minutes, she'd managed to stop, mostly. She turned to her father first.

"B-" Her voice broke and she stopped, clearly forcing herself to calm down again, "Bye, daddy. You were really brave. I'm gonna be brave like you, okay?" She turned to her mother next. "Bye, mommy. Sleep tight." Her voice cracked, "I'll miss you."

"You done?" She gave a quick nod, "Then let's go." He waked away, trying to keep his own emotions back as she waved goodbye.

Once the caskets were out of sight, she started crying again.

He didn't stop her.

* * *

He departed to Monticello that very same day, confirming to the relevant sources that he would take over her care. When he arrived home, she had finally stopped, though she was very still, gaze faraway. When he tried to hand her over to a maid, however, she refused, beginning to tear up when they insisted.

So, too tired to fight with her, he went to his room, sat at his bed and pried her off his arm.

"I'm going to go change." he said, "I suggest you do the same." But she waited, sniffling, until he returned. He managed to get a maid to change her, but she refused to leave his room. "You have to sleep."

"I'm scared."

"Monticello is the safest place in all of Virginia."

"I miss…"

"Get some sleep."

"No. I don't want to sleep. I want to stay here."

"Well, I'm going to sleep." He told her, "So if you're not, then you'll have to go somewhere else."

"Can I sleep with you, Thomas?" Could she sleep with him? That was unheard of, a child, one that wasn't even his, sleeping beside him. But she looked so afraid, so cold.

"Just for tonight." He accepted, exhausted, "But you've got to sleep."

"Okay." She crawled beside him, embracing him tightly and curling up as she squeezed her eyes closed. With a glance at her fragile figure, he let his own eyes drift closed.

* * *

The following morning, he had a meeting, so he gently untangled her from him and rushed to prepare himself, wearing his usual colorful coat, though all black beneath it.

"Welcome." He said formally, hand resting on his walking stick, "We have much to discuss."

"Mr. president?"

"What?"

"Thomas." Madison said, nodding behind him to see Alice standing right behind him. Ugh, this was embarrassing, not to mention he didn't have time to deal with her. So he decided to ignore the comment, taking his seat.

"The financials?" Everyone blinked for a second before hesitantly getting into politics, while Alice came up to Jefferson, quiet, but pouting. She was shivering. As the men really got into debate, Jefferson took advantage of the distraction to pull off his coat and drape it over the girl. "There, now be quiet." She pulled the coat around her, staring at it for a long time before waddling around in it. Several eyes followed her as the men struggled to stay on topic.

The meeting finally ended and most of the men left. Alice climbed clumsily onto Jefferson's lap and leaned against him, eyes drifting shut.

Madison was appalled.

"Thomas?" He said in a low voice, "Would you mind if I state the obvious?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't that Hamilton's daughter?"

"Yes."

"What exactly is she doing here?"

"I'm her godfather." He told Madison dryly.

"Doesn't the child have any other family you can ship her to…?"

"No." He gave a frustrated sigh.

"Thomas, you're the president. You can't take this on."

"I am her godfather." he reminded Madison, "It's one child. She's well-behaved."

"She walked into this meeting and you didn't call someone to take her away."

"She just lost her parents, James." Thomas sighed, deciding to humor the man, "Okay. I know. And I thought of alternatives but there are none. She'll be comfortable here. She's intelligent, and I'm sure that as soon as her grief passes…"

"Grief like that doesn't just pass, Thomas." Madison said testily, "General Mercer is in the foyer, he wants a word. Please, he doesn't like children…"

"You're right. Look after her for me?" Thomas stood and handed the sleeping child to Madison who took her with surprise and outrage. "I'll be a while, so distract her or she'll go looking for me."

"Thomas…" His friend's voice was low with warning, "Surely you can tell a maid to do this."

"They don't have the backbone."

"Thomas!" The president left and Madison sighed loudly, readjusting his hold of the child as she shifted. He paced, upset, muttering. Left to do something a demeaning as look over a child, Hamilton's child, no less. What a disgrace.

She stirred and he rocked her, praying she stayed asleep.

Big brown eyes looked up at him, and she frowned, squirming.

"Stay still." he said, tense, "Thomas will be right back."

"Who are you?"

"James Madison."

"Daddy said you frowned a lot."

"Really?" he set his jaw, "Go back to sleep."

"I'm not sleepy." She squirmed some more, "I wanna see Thomas." She whined.

"You have to be patient."

"I'm bored."

"Tragic."

"Tell me story." She said.

"A story?" he didn't know any bedtime stories, "I don't know any."

"Everyone has stories."

"Nothing interesting."

"Story, story." She whined, "Where did you get that shiny ring?" And so Madison shot into the reluctant tale of how he'd met his wife and the political aspects and romantic aspects, and what her father was like.

Alice listened with rapt attention.

* * *

Jefferson returned half an hour later, smirking when he saw the pair.

"Jeffson, Madson is funny."

"That so?" She nodded, then reached out for him to carry her. "You look comfortable where you are." But she leaned forward, frowning, and he reluctantly took her with a single arm, then kept talking like nothing had happened. "Madison, Mercer has agreed to help but he wants us to stick to the old financial plan…"

"Do you have the map with the locations?"

"This way." Jefferson walked over and pulled out the map with his free hand, pointing, "I think I can get away with getting rid of these locations, but that one and that one? Untouchable." Alice was quiet, one arm grabbing Jefferson to keep balance, and the other pulling his bright jacket more tightly around her. Her eyes lay on the map, flitting curiously to any location Jefferson would mention, head tilting slightly.


	17. Migraine

**And, I'm back! Apparently graduating is more time-comsuing than I anticipated. But the story isn't quite done yet, though it will be soon. No plot in this one, just little moments, I'd like you to get a feel for the relationship I'm building here. Next chapter is nice and written, I'll publish it tomorrow. Thank you for your patience, I am not abandoning this story. We'll get back to the plot next chapter, for now, I hope you enjoy this little sample. Hopefully it can help us all get over the pain of last chapters. Any questions, feel free to ask. I'll stop ranting and let you read. Enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

* * *

The hesitant patter of steps was indication enough as to who had arrived. Thomas didn't even look up.

"Not now, Alice." His voice was dry, weary.

She was quiet, like she usually was when she was thinking. The patter ceased and Thomas painstakingly opened his eyes to peer through his fingers.

Alice stood in front of his desk, blinking as she looked up at him. Her gaze was always curious, strangely analytical.

Thomas sighed.

"Go on." he insisted, "Whatever it is, it can wait." Yet still, she was unmoving. A flash of pain made him close his eyes once more. Jefferson didn't have the energy to get angry when he felt her little hand on his knees. She tapped them.

"Jeffson." She whispered, then kept tapping, "Thooomas."

"What?" He said irritably. He could feel the hash sunlight against his eyelids… She tugged his sleeve wordlessly and he couldn't help but wonder what it was she wanted. Madison was right: he was too soft with her. What could such a small child possibly want to show him? H'ed seen her drawing earlier, was that it? Maybe she wanted a story. Either way, Thomas was not in the mood.

"Thooomas." She kept whispering, pulling at his sleeve.

"Not now." He repeated, quietly. But she persisted for several minutes, whispering, patting his knee. Jefferson found an odd comfort to the action.

When he didn't react after ten minutes, however, she started moving away.

"Madson!" She began to call, "Ma-"

"I'm going, I'm going." Jefferson accepted quickly, knowing he'd never hear the end of it if she called Madison all the way over here. She came back, taking one of his hands with both of hers and pulling him forward as he slouched, squinting.

She pushed the door open and it creaked, a sound that grated against Thomas's ears. Alice shushed the door and led the president to his room, then climbed on his bed and tugged at him until he sat. She clumsily arranged the pillows and then pushed against his chest until he leaned back. When he had, she looked at him, seeming satisfied, then she scurried off, yanking the curtains closed and disappearing past the door, leaving him in darkness for a couple of minutes. She returned walking slowly, precariously balancing a glass of water and dragging a blanket behind her. She held up the glass and Jefferson suddenly remembered.

 _"Well, water can help, sometimes it's dehydration. Often times, it's stress."_

 _"Well, what helps me the most, is lying down in a quiet, dark room. The light and noise make it worse."_

After a cold sensation ran down his spine, he took the glass and Alice went to work covering him with the blanket, fussing over each uncovered bit of him. She stared at him and when he set down the glass, she clambered onto him and passed her hands over his face so he closed his eyes. Once she was satisfied, she planted a kiss on his nose, squeezed into the space between his torso and arm, and curled up beside him, hand on his shoulder.

Jefferson let out a wry laugh.

"Thanks Alice."

* * *

"Thomas…" Madison checked the time with an exasperated sigh as the two men stood at the door, waiting, "Are you sure about this?"

"I said eight thirty. She has two minutes."

"You can't possibly expect a child of her age to…" He trailed off as the toddler appeared in a fancy dress, holding up the pocket watch Jefferson had gifted her for her birthday. Madison didn't turn to his friend to avoid seeing his smug look, "And much like her father, she excels in proving others wrong…"

"If you're done…" The two men, with the young girl waddling behind, sat within the carriage and set off to the theater.

"You're sure she won't get bored?" Madison asked skeptically as the girl moved restlessly about the carriage, standing on the tip of her toes to see outside.

"Fairly." If there was one thing Madison disliked about his friend, it was how careless he seemed at times.

Now, a couple of weeks had passed and Jefferson and Alice had begun to get used to each other. Alice still refused to sleep alone, though she wouldn't request a story on the nights Jefferson was too exhausted. While she began to step away from him a little, she remained timid and clingy. She spent her days either drawing, writing, or wandering the building, asking whomever she found (if they seemed approachable) for a new story. Her post-lunch nap could happen very suddenly and while she occasionally went to bed, she mostly just fell asleep wherever she was standing. If she was lucky a couch or carpet, but closets, tables, chairs and even the middle of the floor were common places to find her. When she felt sleepy, sometimes she'd seek out her godfather, who was used to working with her silent presence, be it writing letters or speaking with Madison or attending conferences, Alice behaved well enough that he could hold her in an arm and continue like nothing had changed, or let her curl up and fall asleep on his lap.

She spoke very little.

Alice had been a talkative girl, back before the tragedy. Jefferson remembered her unintelligible rambling and eagerness to move around and create.

Now she was very quiet, even in her footsteps, and some of the light had gone out in her eyes, though the curiosity stayed bright.

According to Madison, Jefferson went much too easy on her. But Thomas saw it less as a matter of flexibility, and more as one of understanding. Because Jefferson was rarely stern with her (seeing as there was little need, she wasn't bothersome), the moment he did become serious, she knew to obey. Jefferson simply continued about his life, not minding the occasional appearance of his goddaughter. The theater was a good example.

He discussed the play in detail with Madison, and Alice clung to his every word, eyes on him from her seat as he spoke. He knew no one would give him trouble for her due to his position so he had no reason to worry.

It was, however, the first time he'd taken her out since he'd taken over her care. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little wary of how she'd behave.

But by the time the show had ended, though she was a little startled by the applause, no misbehavior had occurred.

"An excellent play." Madison remarked as they stood to leave, navigating the crowd to the exit.

"A lackluster ending." Jefferson noted with disdain, "But I suppose it was better than the last one we attended."

"That was simply dreadful, I didn't know a man could bend that way…"

When they reached the carriage and prepared to leave, Madison frowned.

"Thomas?"

"Yes?" He sighed.

"Where's Alice?"


	18. Apology

**Good morning! So this took longer to publish than I anticipated because getting this part of the relationship just right is very tricky. Also, I graduated** **yesterday (yay!), so that may have influenced my tardiness.**

 **Anyway, this is short too, and closely approaching the end. To everyone who's reading and hopefully enjoying this: you're an inspiration to write. Even if I have no idea who you are, if you don't review and just silently read from home or anywhere... if these words touch you in any way, then I've reached my goal.**

 **As always, enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

* * *

Bright lights… colorful actors and outstanding new words… Alice was attracted to the place where it all happened. While she'd been sitting in a chair the whole time, there had been knights and magic on that wooden stage… she climbed onto it excitedly, giggling as she stomped and it made a little echo.

It began to get darker and when she turned, she found the curtain closing behind her. She tried to fight past it but was unable to find the opening. It was then that the small girl realized she'd lost sight of her guardian.

"Jeffson." She whispered, wandering backstage, eyes inevitably flitting to the grand scenography sitting still. It was a lot less appealing back here, in the dark, as it loomed over her small figure. Hurrying past this, she approached a man with paint of his face, "Jeffson?"

"Whose are you?" The man said with a scowl, "No children here, go on! Scram!" She scurried away from him, asking the women and the men, whoever she could find.

"Jeffson? Thooomas? Jeffson?" She began to sniffle, "Jeffson!" She called, walking around, trying to avoid getting pushed by everyone running past her in a hurry. She paused when she'd found her way out of the stage, but still completely disoriented. Her eyes fell on something new.

Stairs; maybe if she went higher she'd be able to see him. Or Madson would do too at this point. Anyone familiar.

So she climbed up to the balcony, but due to her short stature, she pulled herself up onto the banister, peering down into the sea of people below.

"Jeffson?"

Arms pulled her away from the edge harshly and she whirled around, startled, slipping out of the hands and sitting on the ground, looking up to see a furious president.

"Alice!" He'd never raised his voice with her, not once, but his fury was, for once, clear as day. "Alice Hamilton, you're as foolish as your fa-" He held his tongue, clearly thinking his next words through. The young girl looked up at him, eyes wide, she'd never seen him so angry. His fists were clenched and his jaw set. She could even see a drop of sweat on his forehead.

"There she is." The first actor she'd encountered, face now washed, approached the pair with a scowl, "This is no place for children! Especially snot-nosed, time-wasting little…" Redirecting his anger, the president turned to this man, and Alice had to cover her ears at what answer he provided.

After effectively setting a fire beneath that one's acting career, Jefferson took Alice's small hand to get her to walk. She stumbled at his fast pace. She knew he was angry, she knew she was in trouble, but she tried to get him to understand.

"I-I wanted…"

"You strayed away, I didn't know where you were. What's more, you could have fallen off that balcony!"

"But…"

"It's dangerous, Alice, don't you get that?" She of all people should be weary of others, not only because of her age but her history.

"N-Nuh…" She sniffled, trying to explain herself, "I just… I…" Thomas sighed at the oncoming headache as she began to cry. He should've known he'd have to deal with this eventually.

"You found her." Madison said at the entrance, undeniably relieved. He hadn't seen his friend's face melt into such dread since they were young and reckless.

"Yes." Jefferson said shortly and the three of them stepped into the carriage. Alice sat in a corner, by the window, curled up, pouting. Jefferson sat by the door, shoulders relaxing slightly as he rubbed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. Madison almost wished to get a different ride as he slipped in, in front of his friend and beside the ward.

The moment they arrived, Jefferson stepped off the carriage, wearily instructing a maid to take care of Alice, and storming inside.

Alice watched after him in hurt silence.

Madison felt more than ready to bolt, now that he safely could, but instead guided Alice off the carriage and paid the man. When the girl refused to go with the maid, Madison waved her away and reluctantly kneeled by the girl, whose gaze was set on the doors Thomas had just stalked through.

"Alice." She still didn't turn, "Thomas was very worried about you." At that she blinked and turned to look at the tired man, who himself was also concerned about his good friend. "I've never seen him run into a place so quickly. He had me looking outside, he was terrified you might have run into the road, or that you might have fallen. He didn't know if you were hurt."

"I-I wasn't hurt." Alice told him, confused.

"But he didn't know that." That seemed to get through to her. "And he didn't know if he was going to find you. You scared him." Her gaze shifted back to the doors, "Maybe you should apologize." That made her look back at Madison, confused again.

"B-But I…" He understood her qualms with the concept.

"Maybe you didn't mean to." He accepted, "But you still scared him." With a sigh, he stood back up, deciding that this definitely wasn't his thing. He had no idea how Thomas did it. "I'm going home to get some sleep. Good night."

"Night." She mumbled as Madison walked out.

Hesitantly, she let the maids take her and change her. But when they tried to tuck her into bed, the cold unused one in her room, she escaped, inevitably showing up at the door to the Master Bedroom. She stood there, immobile, at the entrance, refusing to step forward, inside. She didn't know if she was allowed anymore.

Thomas, who'd already settled in for the night, was sitting in bed, reading, a near-empty glass of water sitting on his nightstand. It took several minutes, but he finally looked up and saw her.

"What are you doing?" He sighed, clearly too tired to continue his anger. Alice said nothing, only stood in place, hands playing anxiously with the hem of her sleeping gown, big brown eyes on him. "I'm still upset." He informed her, voice hard. Her grip only tightened and she rolled back on her heels but held her ground. When he saw her lip start to tremble, Thomas sighed, turning back to his book, "Are you going to stand there all night?" A pause. "Into bed. Now." Alice blinked then, without hesitation, she rushed forward, climbing onto the bed and under the covers. She glanced at his godfather, then impulsively curled up beside him, burying her face in his arm.

And only in the morning did the president spot the decorated letter of apology upon his desk.


	19. Strong

**I'm back! In life, there are several stories left unfinished, but I decided maybe this one was worth wrapping up. If my words in any way made you smile or your heart turn or even think a little, then I'll be glad to have done this. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did, heard the characters whisper in your ears, just as I did as I wrote down what they said to me, took on their own lives and stormed through the story, leaving me only to follow behind them.**

 **Why do I write like I'm running out of time? Because we never know how much time we have.**

 **As always,**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~The Cursed One**

* * *

One day, Jefferson received an unexpected visitor.

"Lafayette." he said in surprise, letting him in, "I didn't realize you'd left France."

"Temporarily." He admitted, "I went to pay my respects to my friends." He seemed grief-stricken and Jefferson remembered the three of them had lived together for some time.

"I see. Well, you can stay in Monticello until you return."

"Merci." Lafayette stopped and looked down at the girl peeking from behind Jefferson's legs. Pretty, but she looked nothing like him. "Is that their daughter?"

"Yes." They made their way to the sitting room and Alice climbed onto the couch beside Jefferson, staring at Lafayette oddly.

"She's so young. I didn't realize."

"Her parents were young." The two men frowned deeply at that.

"Her name?"

"Alice." Lafayette stared at Alice with the same morbid fascination with which she stared at him.

"Jeffson." She whispered, pulling at the president's sleeve, "Why's he talking funny?" The man hoped his smile didn't seem forced and decided to introduce himself.

"Hello." She turned to Lafayette, cheeks pink with her timidity.

"Hi." She mumbled.

"I am Marquis de Lafayette." He introduced himself. Alice blinked, then looked up at Jefferson.

"He was a very good friend of your mother and father," the president explained patiently, and Alice's face wrinkled as she thought back.

"Hm…" Her eyes lit up, "Lafa… Lafa-ette? Friend… help… drunk…" The men burst into laughter, making Alice jolt and look at them, perplexed as to what she might have said.

"That sums it up quite nicely." Lafayette admitted, "It is nice to know they talked about me." At that, his voice became more quiet. He cleared his throat, "Merci, Jefferson, for inviting me here."

"And I'll join you for dinner." Thomas said, standing, "But I'm afraid I'll have to leave you until then." Lafayette waved him off and the man walked out. Alice hurriedly followed, pausing and waving at Lafayette before leaving as well.

The frenchman, when he was sure no one was watching, let a single tear escape his eye. But once he allowed that, it was like opening a faucet. He leaned forward, concealing his face in his hand.

A tap on his knee made him jump and hurriedly straighten. Alice took several steps back in surprise. She blinked at him, head tilting slightly and while he was embarrassed, Lafayette was glad it was the child and not someone else who had found him like this. He cleared his throat.

"If you're lost…"

"Why are you crying?" He blinked and said nothing, clenching his shaking hands. How selfish of him to cry in front of their orphan daughter. She took a tentative step forward, then another, putting her hand on his knee as she looked up at him. "Are you sad?"

"...Oui." He realized the child didn't know french, "I mean, yes. But you don't have to worry." She pouted for a minute before climbing onto the couch beside him, then onto his lap. She stood and reached for his face, messily wiping away his tears, inevitably making the man laugh. She looked at the wetness on her hand for a long time.

"Jeffson says to be strong." Alice said, "But daddy used to cry too."

"He did?" Lafayette couldn't picture Hamilton ever shedding a tear. But Alice nodded.

"When mommy got mad at him." She said, "And when he was worried about mommy. He…" She sniffled, then without another word, left hurriedly.

Lafayette followed her curiously.

* * *

He arrived at a room full of paper. On the wall, there were drawings and writings. He watched Alice sit at her desk and begin to scribble. He saw an untouched bed at the end of the room. Deciding to leave her to it, he asked to be taken to his own room.

At lunch, the maids asked him if he minded eating with Alice, and he told them it would be fine.

"Tell me, Alice, what do you know of France?"

"Mommy went once." She offered, "She said it's pretty."

"Very pretty." Lafayette confirmed, "Did your mother teach you French?" That got a confused look, "It's a different language. People in France use… different words." The wonder in Alice's face grew as she leaned forward, as if being closer to him would hasten his story.

"Really?"

"Oui, j'aime bien Paris! C'est un lieu incroyable." He said. Alice's eyes widened and she giggled. Lafayette kept speaking French, much to her delight. They finished eating and Alice wandered off. Lafayette sat in the sitting room, surprised when Alice wandered back in, yawning. She wordlessly made her way to him and lay her head on his lap before dozing off.

Her intelligent eyes reminded him of Alexander, and that curly hair was exactly like Constance's.

When the three of them lived together, it felt as if they'd live forever.

* * *

Lafayette stayed at Monticello for several days. He taught Alice French in his free time, and wined and dined with Jefferson every night, as they recalled good times together.

There was only one day when Jefferson skipped out on their usual dinner. He had a very important meeting with the cabinet that would take him several hours, and required his full attention. He was not to be disturbed. He actually asked Lafayette to keep an eye on Alice to make sure she didn't try and follow him. Alice had grown to like Lafayette, so it wasn't a problem.

It was an unusually dark night, even inside, with candles lit. Lafayette leaned back in his chair, pleasantly reading while Alice worked on some art on the floor.

Then, out of nowhere, she dropped her pencil.

And she began to wail.

Lafayette dropped his book in surprise. In all the time he'd been here, he'd never seen her shed a single tear. She'd get fussy, but never do anything beyond pout, so why was she crying?

She seemed inconsolable as Lafayette clumsily approached her. She was kneeling, then she fell forward, covering her head as her small body trembled.

* * *

"Mister President?" Jefferson was quiet a moment, eyes shifting to the window as the rain poured down and lightning flashed.

"Yes?" He asked after too long, but he couldn't focus on the proposition, "I'm sorry, gentlemen, you'll have to excuse me. Madison? Take over, please."

* * *

"Shhh." Lafayette consoled, brushing her hair, "It's okay, cherie. What's wrong?"

"I knew it." The frenchman was immediately embarrassed and a little relieved when Jefferson appeared at the doorway.

"She just started crying out of nowhere." He said, confused, worried, "She won't move."

"That's alright." Jefferson said, sighing, walking forward, "Alice is afraid of thunder. More-so now, it seems. I can't blame her, the night was like this when…" he trailed off but Lafayette understood. Jefferson picked Alice up in one swift movement, holding her with both arms for once. She hugged him and buried her face against his chest, sobbing. "Come now, Alice. Let's take a walk."

"What about you're meeting?"

"It's not that important." Jefferson quietly walked with her. She suddenly began to try to wipe her tears away.

"I-I'm sorry, Jeffson. I can't… be strong…"

"Alice." He told her, not breaking his pace, "Sometimes, you have to be strong, like I told you. But other times? It's fine to cry." Her little shoulders slumped with relief and she hugged him tightly, little hands gripping his familiar jacket.

"I want my mommy." She cried, "I want mommy and I want daddy." Jefferson took a breath.

"I know you do, doll."


End file.
